Thunder Snow (Hetalia)
by CastielsAngel21
Summary: When Alfred and Matthew invite their friends for a fun vacation away, the gang investigates a local haunt. Can their relationships help uncover the bloody mysteries that lie hidden? Pairings: USUK, SpaMano, FraNada, GerIta, PruAus
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is my first fic so I hope you enjoy! Reviews are super appreciated!**

**Also, I am looking for a Beta so please message me if you are interested!**

Chapter One:

"WOOHOO! Are you ready for a kick-A spring break Mattie?!"

Alfred was positively beaming as he loaded the last case of beer into his black Dodge Challenger. Matthew smiled quietly to himself at his brother's unending enthusiasm. Truthfully, he would have been much happier having a romantic weekend at their parents' lake house with just himself and his boyfriend. Unfortunately, his brother wanted to spend more time with him, and Alfred always gets what he wants. Not that Matthew minded. He was flattered his brother wanted to spend spring break together. But, one thing led to another and Matthew's quiet weekend had quickly turned into an all-out house party.

"Are you sure you're okay with everyone coming? There are going to be a lot of people." Matthew asked as he climbed into the passenger seat. He knew the answer to his question as it was forming on his lips, but hey, he could hope.

"Of course man!" Alfred said. "The more the merrier!" He grinned wildly at Matthew as he slid himself into the driver's seat. He paused for a moment, turning the key. "Uh, who all did Frenchy invite again?"

Matthew sighed. "_Francis_" he emphasized the name, "is driving up with Antonio and Gilbert. He also asked to bring his roommate Roderich, something about getting him out of the house…"

Matthew trailed off. He wasn't necessarily the jealous type, but he also knew Francis, and Francis was a flirt. His stomach tightened uncomfortably as he remembered the fight a few weeks ago when his boyfriend had told him Roderich was going to be staying with him.

Shaking his head from the thought, Matthew breathed deeply, uncoiling the tightening knot in his stomach, and continued. "Gilbert invited his brother, you know the one, the brawny German?" He turned to his twin who nodded in confirmation.

Alfred's brow furrowed slightly in concentration. "We may need more beer." He stated, mostly to himself.

"Anyway," Matthew continued, "Ludwig apparently mentioned the trip to Feliciano, and you know how excited he gets, so he and his brother are driving in Ludwig's car."

Matthew paused. He stared out at the gently falling late season snow and drew his coat around him tighter, sinking into the chair to get more comfortable. It had been an abnormally cold winter. The Canadian was used to the cold of course, though his American brother hated it, which was largely what surprised him about Alfred wanting to go to their parents' home on Lake Ontario. Matthew had expected him to pack up and head south to a beach somewhere.

The two had been separated early, Matthew living in Toronto with their mother and Alfred in Syracuse with their father. The lake house remained shared by the two after the divorce and was a place the family stayed together over summer and winter breaks where Alfred and Matthew spent time with each other. As they became old enough to be on their own, their parents stopped coming. Still, Matthew smiled, he and his brother always had fond memories there. His heart warmed remembering when Alfred had asked him to spend spring break together; though Matthew was not entirely unconvinced his twin wasn't just looking for an excuse to party.

"—still bummed Kiku couldn't make it though. So is that all?"

It had taken several moments for Matthew to be pulled from his reverie and realize he had been asked a question. His chest constricted. No, that wasn't all, and he was very aware what Alfred was really asking in his attempt to sound casual. Matthew and Francis (well admittedly, mostly Francis) did have alternative motives to inviting the group to the lake. His pulse quickened and he shifted, uncomfortable now, sputtering out an attempt at blowing past the question.

"It… uh, well…" Matthew determinedly avoided any and all eye contact. _Come on, man up! He's going to find out eventually._

"Not exactly… Arthur may or may not show up" Matthew finally slipped out the second part quietly, hoping his brother hadn't heard.

**SCREECH**

Alfred slammed on the brakes so hard Matthew caught on the auto-locking seatbelt and his glasses kept going, falling onto the floor.

"WHAT?!"

_Damn, no such luck._ Matthew unbuckled and ran his fingers along the floor, grasping feelers until they found their target. He placed the glasses back and pushed them on the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath and turning to his, now very red and very angry, brother.

Alfred's breath had become heavy and fast. Matthew turned to look at him and immediately shrank back against the door out of reflex. The two were twins, and though they almost looked identical, there were significant differences between the two. Most notable, given the current situation: Alfred was bigger. Tall and lean, but with heavy solid muscle, the driver pierced Matthew's slightly terrified deep indigo eyes with his own bright icy blue gaze. His shorter blonde hair stood on end and Matthew noticed how his whole body appeared to swell to a more dominant imposing figure in comparison to his usual light and cheerful demeanor.

His gaze was expectant, accusing.

"Well… I…" Matthew tried to start, "I know you guys are fighting, or whatever, right now…" he paused wringing his hands and taking a deep breath before he continued, more confident this time. "But Arthur is our friend too, and I know he's still yours… so… so you're just going to have to suck it up."

Matthew fixed Alfred with a glare that was the closest he could muster to a look he hoped said _that's final_. Unfortunately, what resulted was an awkward whimper betraying him, though his eyes remained steady. They stared solidly at each other for several agonizing seconds. Sweat beaded in Matthew's palms.

After what felt like an eternity Alfred closed his eyes and turned to face the road, shifting the car back in drive. Matthew let out a shuddering breath; he didn't even realize he had been holding it in. The blood circulation slowly returned to his limbs and he cautiously took his eyes off of his brother and looked out at the icy road ahead. He bitterly noted that it looked half as cold outside as it currently felt inside.

"Fine." An eerie smile found its way to the corner of Alfred's mouth and he let out a dark chuckle. "Props for standing up for yourself for once, but you're not supposed to do that to me" He playfully punched the shaggy haired Canadian in the shoulder.

Matthew winced and smiled nervously, rubbing his quickly bruising arm.

"Yes well, I know you." He turned to face Alfred and shot him a knowing look. "You still care about him and he cares about you. Whatever you guys are fighting about this time, you'll get over it. That's what friends do."

Alfred frowned, his expression stern and conflicted. He sighed and shot a side-glance at Matthew.

"Mattie, it's more than that and you know it."

He did know it. Matthew had been the only one Alfred had really confided in. The truth was that Arthur was the only person from whom Alfred had ever sought acceptance. He had been instantly infatuated the moment they met. Arthur challenged Alfred in a way no one else ever had, and he still was the only one to cause Matthew's usually boisterous and slightly obnoxious brother to feel anything less than overtly overconfident. Of course, Alfred would never let anyone else know it, or admit it out loud.

They had all been friends for years; Matthew was sure this situation would blow over like any other. With the help of some beer and Francis's scheming, they had set forth a plan to get the two to turn their bickering into more … uh … productive uses of energy.

Matthew reached out and put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, giving it one firm reassuring squeeze.

"Come on, let's get this party started." Matthew said, smiling encouragingly.

Alfred quickly flipped his switch and flashed that famous grin, turning on the radio to full blast.

"Yeah! Party On!"

Just like that he was Alfred again, all enthusiasm and insanity. Matthew grinned and shook his head. _Yeah, this is going to be an interesting vacation._

* * *

This car ride was taking far too long.

Granted, Roderich had only been in the vehicle for twenty minutes, but it was still far too long. The delicate plaster of his flawless skin grew taught as he pursed his lips and stubbornly turned up the volume of his headphones. Etude in E Major swept through his body and he closed his eyes facing out the window of the Audi, attempting to drown out the racket of the grown children bickering in the backseat.

"Francis! He keeps touching me!"

"Am not! Besides you can only _dream_ of having the benefit of being graced by the awesomeness of me and the touch of my sexy body! Keseseseses!"

Francis glanced in the rearview mirror to see Gilbert sprawled across the backseat of the car. He was lying on his back with his body in the seat he should have been sitting in, and his legs were bridging Antonio's body with his feet pressed up against his neighbors' window. Francis smirked at the sight, shook his head, and turned his focus back to the road.

"Gilbert, mon frere, heaven forbid we skid off of this ice and send you flying. I sincerely doubt Antonio will be willing to pick up any of the pieces of your 'sexy' body" Francis pushed back a long blonde lock out of his eyes and made eye contact with the silver haired German in the mirror, raising an eyebrow.

"He would only be interested in picking up one piece" Gilbert scoffed, swinging his feet around and sitting up. He gave the Spaniard next to him a nudge and a playful wink.

Antonio smiled. "No one would ever be able to see it, amigo. You blend in with the snow too well and it is far too small." The olive-toned man turned smugly to his friend and flashed him a brilliant smile, his green eyes shining.

Roderich couldn't help but smirk at the exchange he was trying to ignore. True, he would _much_ prefer to have stayed home with his music, and he cursed the Frenchman for dragging him along on this excursion; but he was always pleased whenever Gilbert was put in his place.

His pleasure was short lived, however, when a hand came up and rudely ripped away his headphones.

"You are supposed to be socializing mon ami!" Francis smiled warmly at the grumpy Austrian in the passenger seat. "You cannot spend this whole vacation in such a state! How are you to get over Elizabeta if you do not start talking to people again?"

Roderich shuddered and stared back at Francis blankly.

"Our separation was quite amicable, thank you, and I don't remember stating that I required any help." He returned his gaze to the window, adjusting the white silk scarf around his neck.

"I don't remember you putting up much of a fight." Francis stated matter-of-factly.

Roderich's perfect composure faltered briefly at the truth of that statement. His normally straight and upright posture fell slightly, if only for a moment. It was true; a part of him was tempted by the idea of getting away for a while. He hadn't been able to explain it, but after the scandalous breakup, his music had started to suffer. He felt empty, hollow, emotionless, and it came through in his playing. Consequently, when Francis approached him with the suggestion of getting away for a week, he jumped on the opportunity to clear his head.

Of course, somehow he hadn't processed that the trip would include _him_. Roderich cringed at the sound of the ruby-eyed German cackling behind him.

"What did you do to get that crap-wad to dump you anyway?" the obnoxiously loud German asked.

Roderich sighed heavily and straightened his ebony-framed glasses as he turned to face his verbal attacker.

"Not that it's your business, but it was mutual."

Gilbert smirked in response and Roderich's heart faltered almost imperceptibly. His deep ruby eyes flitted playfully, knowingly, as they regarded Roderich's own bright violet irises.

"That's not what I heard," he practically sang.

Silence. The world went quiet for a fraction of a moment until it was drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing to his ears. Roderich tried to remain stoic, but the deep blush that flooded from his neck betrayed him.

"I do not know what you are talking about," he stated flatly, trying desperately to remember what it felt like to breathe and to get his heart moving again.

"I heard she caught you with your pants down with a certain Swiss gun enthusiast. Seems to me he was trying to set off your artillery, of you catch my meaning"

Gilbert wagged his eyebrows suggestively and Roderich choked.

"I-I… Wh-…" Roderich sputtered, his previous blush lost to the ghostly pale that now encompassed his features. Blood turned to ice in his veins and he found himself unable to remember how to make sentences or coherent noises.

"My, this is interesting" Antonio mused, sitting forward attentively, his perpetual smile spreading wider.

"How DARE you!" Roderich finally spat, his eyes flashed between the two men in the backseat. "That is NOT what happened, what on earth gives you the right to make such erroneous accusations! It is NONE of your business what happens in my personal life, romantic or otherwise!"

Roderich then rounded on Francis who was watching the road with mock intensity while his chest heaved in a silent fit of giggles. "I will thank you to return my headphones now." Roderich fixed the Frenchman with a leer that would have melted steel.

"Of course" Francis smiled again at the flustered Austrian and handed him his headphones, then winked in the mirror at Gilbert and Antonio.

Roderich huffed. He really should have expected this. Though he was the kind of dignified man that insisted personal matters stay private, his companions could not possibly be more opposite. They had no qualms about poking around in the lives of others, or making crass inquiries. They were all openly bi-, or pan-? or omnisexual (whatever they called it) individuals that openly spoke of sex and love and never really cared about labels. The way Francis described it, they loved love and that was the sweet simplicity of it.

Roderich believed that was true of Francis and Antonio he could see it. They were pure romantics. _Gilbert_ on the other hand, Roderich was convinced, stuck with his friends' philosophy as an excuse to sleep with anything that had two legs.

He pulled his violet peacoat tighter and sighed. Deep down Roderich envied them, he wished he could simplify life and his decisions to just loving people and life however it pleased him, the way he loved music. Unfortunately, a more hostile, prominent part of him scolded their crass behaviors and was appalled at how they approached him about his personal life so frequently and indelicately. What had happened with him, Vash, and Liza was absolutely none of their business.

Roderich's earlier uptight posture had devolved into a slump as he curled himself in the chair and glared out the side window.

_Why did I ever agree to this?_

* * *

"Ve~ Ludwig I'm so excited! Thank you so much for inviting me along on your vacation!"

Ludwig stiffened. He hadn't actually, technically, invited Feliciano. However, he couldn't say he was particularly upset to be joined by the little Italian, so he kept quiet.

"Uh, ja… no problem." He responded.

"Well I don't know why the hell anyone would want to spend vacation at a snowed-in lake house in March. I thought this was spring break? Where is the spring?"

_You didn't have to come._ Ludwig thought heatedly and sighed. No, he had not technically invited Feliciano, but he DEFINITELY did not invite the little Italian's cantankerous older brother.

"But Lovino! The snow is so pretty! Soon it will all melt, we should enjoy it now!" Feliciano turned in his seat to smile at his brother.

Lovino answered with an audible grunt of disinterest.

It always amused Ludwig how similar the brothers looked, and how different they were in personality. They shared the same small frames and the same auburn hair that curled stubbornly on one side, though Lovino's was just a shade or two darker. However, where Feliciano was young and full of life and laughter, Lovino was sullen, vulgar, and difficult to be around for long periods of time. It did not help that the elder brother hated Ludwig.

"Hey! Potato guy! When will we be there?" Lovino crossed his arms haughtily and glared at the back of Ludwig's head.

"We should be there by six." Ludwig responded flatly.

"Oh! Ludwig! Do you think we can go ice skating?!" Feliciano was practically bouncing in his chair.

Ludwig almost smiled at the little Italian. "Nein, I think it is a little too late in the season to do so safely."

Feliciano was barely fazed and continued to chatter ceaselessly about all the different snowmen he planned to build. Ludwig's heart warmed hearing his enthusiasm. Yes, Lovino had insisted on coming with his little brother, but if that was what it took to see Feliciano happy, Ludwig was pleased to endure.

* * *

Alfred and Matthew pulled into the winding drive to the house at a quarter after five. Alfred's eyes gleamed with excitement as they approached the lakefront property. Snow dusted the trees that shadowed the driveway and entrance to the wood-paneled home.

The home itself was truly magnificent. The twin's parents rented out the property as a vacation home when it was not in use, so the place was very well kept. It was a three-level masterpiece that sat atop a hill overlooking the lake.

The outside was paneled with wood logs to give it a cabin-like feel. However, the rear of the house that looked out to the lake, and attached boat slip, was framed with ceiling-to-floor windows on both the first and second floors. The first floor also extended out in the rear to a deck with a built-in hot tub and fire pit that covered the walkout basement.

Alfred had barely parked the car before throwing himself out of the vehicle and running up the stairs to the entrance.

"Finally!" he exclaimed as he thrust open the front door and slammed face-first onto the plush carpet flooring inside. He heard shuffling footsteps behind him before feeling something heavy drop on the back of his legs.

"Oof! Dude?! What was that for?!" Alfred rounded on his brother, flipping on his back and glaring at his less-than-pleased twin who was standing in the door with a suitcase in each hand.

"Thanks for the help, _bro_" Matthew retorted rolling his eyes but smirking as he set down the luggage and helped Alfred to his feet, then gestured to the duffel bag he had just thrown on his brother.

"You can take that one, then help me finish unloading the beer and groceries."

Alfred returned the command with mocked dejection, grumbling about totalitarian siblings, and shambled to help with the luggage.

* * *

At precisely six pm Ludwig and the Italian brothers pulled up the driveway in Ludwig's navy BMW, followed almost immediately by Francis's silver Audi.

Lovino stirred when the engine was cut and he blinked awake to see Feliciano bounding out into the snow. His limbs groaned in protest as he stretched catlike out of the car and into the cold. The bitter slap of icy wind whipped at his cheeks and tired eyes. _Fucking cold, why did I come out here anyway?_ Lovino glanced back at his brother, who threw his arms around the stupid-macho-German in a hug that was far too intimate for Lovino's liking. Right, he thought, that's why.

"Oi! German! Are you going to dance around like a snow fairy all day, or are you going to grab some of these bags?"

The elder Italian threw his heavy duffel over his shoulder and started to drag his way toward the front steps of the house. He had to admit, it looked like a half decent place. He took a moment to breathe in the frost in the air and appreciate the beauty of the snow contrasting with the wood finish. It was truly stunning, even if it was cold as balls outside.

Unfortunately, his moment of peace couldn't last. He only made it a few steps up to the house before it happened.

On the sixth step Lovino's foot caught a patch of ice and he fell backward, his stomach lurching into his chest as he did. For a moment his heart stopped and he started to reach out, desperately grasping at empty air. When his body made impact an electric shock ran down his spine and he felt suddenly surrounded by warmth.

"Cuidado guapo!"

Lovino slowly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He had not, in fact, completely fallen to the ground. Instead what he discovered was that he had stumbled back into the warm, strong arms of another person. He slowly looked down at the black and red coat that housed the sun-bronzed hands wrapped around his body from behind and desperately willed his heart to remember to beat, or maybe to slow down. The Italian's head felt light from the sudden surge of adrenaline and used that to reason why just the touch of this stranger's skin seemed to radiate electricity. He took several rapid breaths before slowly lifting his head to face the man embracing him.

"Hola! You should watch your step there!"

The man smiled at him with sparkling emerald eyes that did absolutely nothing to help slow Lovino's heart. He was lost in a sea of sensations, taking in the beauty of this mystery man; the warmth of his touch against the chill of the wind, the way he smelt like oak and fire, a scent that reflected the heat from his gaze and his body and -

"Fratello! Are you okay?!"

Lovino blinked several times and remembered himself. He straightened and wretched himself from the man's arms, pushing him away whilst trying to hide his own deeply flushed cheeks.

"What the hell bastardo?! Who the fuck just grabs people like that!?" Lovino fixed the handsome stranger with a disdainful glare.

Feliciano caught up to the stairs and put one hand on the man's shoulder, catching his breath.

"Oh good! I see you met Antonio! Antonio, this is my brother Lovino!"

Antonio's smile never broke, his eyes never left Lovino's. He seemed to stare into him, piercing past all of his barriers. Lovino immediately felt exposed and self-conscience. He glanced warily at the hand that was offered to him.

"Hello" Antonio beamed and waited with his hand outstretched.

"What kind of creepy bastard just gropes people they don't even know, huh?!" Lovino wasn't even sure why he was yelling. He just wished this Antonio guy would stop looking at him like that; it made his stomach flip in all kinds of directions and was extremely distracting.

"My apologies, I thought you fell into me! My mistake!" the Spaniard shrugged, still smiling at Lovino but retracting his hand.

"Suck it losers! Let's get this party started!"

Lovino's stomach contracted as a silver-haired man tackled Antonio from behind, grabbing the handsome Spaniard's arm and flew up the stairs. Antonio shot Lovino one more heart-stopping smile and winked before being pulled out of sight.

"Let's go, Lovi!" Feliciano tugged on his brother's sleeve to get his attention. The elder of the two remained rooted to the spot in a confused daze. Finally he shook his head, picked up his duffel bag and walked (cautiously, this time) up the remaining stairs.

* * *

Francis grabbed the rest of the luggage and was the last one to finally trek his way up to the house. He placed the bags down just inside the foyer and took in the surroundings. The entrance was capped with a high vaulted ceiling that extended to the upper floor and an elaborate cedar staircase to the right curved its way up to the second floor loft.

From the upper floor Feliciano beamed down chattering incessantly at his sullen brother who was standing with his arms crossed impatiently at the bottom of the stairwell.

Francis smiled and shook his golden hair from his eyes. Directly in front of him opened up to a very wide living area complete with an exceptionally large T.V. and ornate fireplace. The whole rear wall of the house exposed a stunning view of the lake and the setting sun bathed the room in a deep golden light.

Roderich was perched on the plush sofa, as upright and proper as always. Ludwig had just crossed into the room and handed the brunette a glass of wine while taking deep voracious gulps of his own beer.

Gilbert and Antonio were whispering in the corner and darting suspicious glances in the Austrian's direction. Francis shot them a warning look, to which Gilbert answered with a particularly evil grin and a dismissive wave.

Turning, Francis was struck still. His heart fluttered and his fingers twitched expectantly. His eyes laid rest on the most magnificent kitchen he had ever seen. It was separated from the living area by a long crescent-shaped bar. A wood-topped island ran the length of the kitchen and had a built in sink and fully stocked wine cooler. All of the amenities were state-of-the art and Francis could hardly contain his joy. Cooking was his passion and his life. Though, as a professional, he had seen and worked in many fine restaurants, he still longed for the day he could build his own.

His eyes swept the room and his gaze fell on a pair of ice blue eyes leering at him from the table in the dining nook. Francis's smile faltered. _Merde._

"Alfie! Darling!" He recovered, spreading his arms wide, feigning ignorance and smiling broadly.

"Don't _Alfie_ me, you are so deep on my shit-list right now frenchy" he sneered.

"Oh? Whatever do you mean?"

Francis quirked his head to the side and smirked as he saw the other's vein pulsating in his neck. Alfred's jaw clenched several times and Francis chuckled warmly. Suddenly, a hand slipped into his and made him jump.

"Maybe we should go outside for a moment," a voice whispered beside him.

Francis locked eyes with his companion and his heart warmed. Next to him was his loving, stealthy, boyfriend. He had always admired how the little Canadian was able to sneak up on him like that. He was used to the loud and the extravagant, but Matthew was something different, something kind and subtle and gentle (though certainly not fragile). Forgetting all other thoughts he smiled and grabbed the other by his waist, then dipped him into a deep, passionate kiss.

"Mathieu, don't I get a 'hello' first?" He asked as he pulled away, setting Matthew back upright and pouting mockingly at him. He took silent delight in the pink that dusted Matthew's cheeks as he shuffled his feet and fumbled while he tried to remember what he was saying.

"H-hello, F-Francis. Let's, um, let's go outside for a sec." The Canadian glanced up then looked away shyly, grabbing Francis's hand again, leading him through the sliding glass door and out onto the deck. Francis chanced a parting glance at his boyfriend's fuming brother and threw him a quick wink before turning back to Matthew.

The pink rouge of the evening sky clashed brilliantly with the deep purple clouds building over the lake. The image was startlingly beautiful. Francis smiled and stared at his partner as Matthew leaned forward and placed his elbows on the deck railing. Francis wrapped his arms around the younger's waist in a tender embrace and sighed.

"It's beautiful out here," he whispered. "Do you know what I love most about the twilight Mathieu? "

Matthew turned around to face Francis and tilted his head with a quizzical look.

"What I love," he continued, "is that the color reminds me of your eyes. Peaceful. Beautiful. Breathtaking." He pushed a stray hair out of Matthew's deeply flushed face, leaning in.

"I-I, um..." Matthew cleared his throat. "That's very sweet, as always, and I missed you" he gave Francis a quick peck on the lips, then frowned. "But you got me in trouble."

Francis paused, dejected. He dropped his arms from Matthew's waste and pouted back at him.

"Oh, come now mon cher, you know he wants Arthur to come. Just wait, he will be thanking us by the end of the week." He grabbed Matthew's hands and locked his saddest puppy eyes down at him.

Matthew did not look convinced.

"How can you even be sure he will show up?" he asked, "As mad as Al is that we invited him, it will be a million times worse if he doesn't show."

"Oh he will be here, no one knows Arthur better than me. Trust me love. It will all work out."

Francis grinned mischievously. It was true, he had been friends with Arthur for as long as he could remember, he knew him well and he also knew love. True, Arthur did not show it in any way that would be considered normal but Francis could see it, hear it, _feel it._ Arthur was in love. He just didn't know it yet.

"Le rosbif is so deep in the closet he has made it his home" He placed an arm around Matthew and turned him back toward the house. "But fear not mon amour, love is a powerful thing."

Francis smiled and pressed his lips to Matthew's hair. He shivered a bit as the wind picked up.

"Maybe," Matthew said. He turned warily to the sky before returning inside and hesitated. "I think we may get another storm, I sure hope you are willing to deal with the consequence of being locked in with those two."

Francis barked a laugh and steered Matthew inside. Alfred was chugging back his third beer, judging by the empty bottles next to him. He made a show of turning his back on the couple to listen intently to an argument between the two German brothers.

No sooner had they stepped inside, that three loud pounds from the front door echoed throughout the house. Francis, Matthew and Alfred all froze. The grip on Alfred's bottle tightened, his knuckles turned white and he slowly turned back around to face the couple accusingly. Francis locked eyes with him and could almost see every muscle in his body tense, which simply made the Frenchman all the more amused.

"I'll get it!" He sang, throwing Alfred a none-too-subtle wink.

TO BE CONTINUED

Translations:  
Cuidado guapo! = Careful Handsome! (Spanish)  
Le Rosbif = Literally "the Roast Beef", a term the French use for the British similar to the British use of the term "frog" for the French.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bonjour! So glad you made it safely!" Francis threw the door open with a flourish.

Arthur Kirkland stood in the doorway wearing an army green parka and looking highly disgruntled. The glare he answered Francis with was made more intimidating by the prominence of his eyebrows. Unfortunately, the pompous French arse-hat was completely unfazed by the burning leer being laid on him by the Englishman on the stoop.

"Please, come in, come in!"

That irritatingly smug grin from the French frog's face made Arthur's blood boil, but it was cold outside. Begrudgingly, he crossed the threshold, shoving his bag into Francis's chest.

"Do not speak to me _frog_, you are on my list." Arthur answered, kicking off his boots and shaking the snow from his wiry blonde hair.

Francis merely threw his head back in a raucous laugh.

"Oh, my old friend, you are not the first to say that to me tonight, and I am certain you will not be the last!" He grinned broadly and set Arthur's things by the door, steering him into the living room.

Arthur was awed by the beauty and scale of the home. He was quite used to his cozy flat outside of New York, so it was a pleasant change to have space where he could feel relaxed, even if he was blackmailed into coming. His eyes traveled the spacious living area, greeting the gathered group with a nod.

Suddenly, Arthur was impacted by a heavy mass of muscle. He probably would have fallen over completely had he not partly been anticipating the disturbance after seeing the large figure barreling toward him from the corner of his eye. His reflexes were highly trained by now to always be aware when entering the same vicinity as Alfred F. Jones.

"Arthur! Buddy! You made it!" He was promptly locked in the vice-like grips of his American best friend's iron biceps.

"Yes, yes. That's quite enough." Arthur awkwardly maneuvered his hands to pat Alfred's back, gasping. "Al! I can't breathe!"

"Oh right! Sorry dude!"

Arthur took in a thankful gulp of air when he was finally released, filling his lungs with the sweet nectar of oxygen. Alfred pulled away and held him at arms length, smirking.

"It's good to see you again buddy!" he said.

Arthur twitched at the corner of his mouth. He was pleased that it seemed Alfred was no longer giving him the cold shoulder. They had not spoken at all in almost two weeks and Arthur had been worried about coming. But now here he was, embraced by his best friend as if they had never had that stupid fight. It was nice. It seemed ridiculous that they had ever argued to begin with.

Arthur smiled back. "I am pleased to see you as well Alfred."

For a moment Arthur thought he saw something analogous to doubt flicker in Alfred's eyes, but he could have been mistaken. In a blink it had passed, and the boisterous American clapped him on the shoulder and turned to face the group in the living room.

"Alright ladies and gents! Or ya know… gents and gents… Who's ready for food?"

There was an appreciative murmur at the mention of sustenance. Alfred beamed at Francis.

"Who wants Frenchy over there to cook?" he continued.

Antonio and Gilbert immediately voiced their approval and Francis, in his usual showy way, tried to act as if there were no worse punishment to endure.

"Moi? I cannot possibly!" He exclaimed, but Arthur was having none of it.

"Shut it and get in the kitchen where you belong!" He chided, pointing to the adjoined room and smirking as Francis brought a hand to his heart as if he had been wounded.

"Well if you insist!" Francis flashed a dazzling smile and marched into the kitchen, looping an arm through Matthew's and dragging him along.

In spite of himself, Arthur chuckled and shook his head. Yes, he hated that showy frog, but he was still one of his best mates.

It took a moment for Arthur to realize that Alfred had disappeared. His eyes swept the room, but they could not find their target. Perhaps Alfred was still mad after all…

Arthur still didn't fully understand. It really wasn't his fault that the bloody yank was so hard to read. He hadn't even really known they were fighting until the third day that Alfred ignored him. They had had a bit of a row sure, but nothing unusual, nothing Arthur saw as a reason for such odd behavior. He sighed and made his way to follow Francis into the kitchen. Maybe he could help cook as a distraction.

"Non! Absolutely not!"

Matthew gave Arthur an understanding smile from behind Francis. The little Canadian was shaking with giggles as he tied his apron, watching Francis practically chase the Brit from the chopping block.

"Non!" Francis repeated dangerously waving a knife in Arthur's direction, "I will not have you ruining my masterpiece!"

Arthur was positively affronted. He simply was offering to help chop vegetables, how could he possibly mess that up? Matthew gently put a hand on Francis's wrist, his touch was ice water on hot coals and Francis immediately cooled.

"It's ok, he won't touch anything," Matthew was almost indiscernibly quiet; soothing his lover as he slowly eased the knife from Francis's hand. His lips perked up at the corners, fighting another fit of giggles, as he turned to face Arthur.

"Come on Arthur let's get you a beer and you can go settle down with the others"

Arthur obediently allowed himself to be steered to the other side of the kitchen to the fridge where Matthew hid his face behind the open door.

"You should know better than to even ask to help Francis with cooking," He whispered, shaking his head and shooting Arthur a knowing smile.

"I know, I just…" Arthur sighed and looked around, he had to say something, and he trusted Matthew. He didn't have the relationship with Matthew that he did with Alfred, but there was something deeply honest and pure about him.

"Matthew… Is Alfred mad at me?" He rushed out, "It's just, he hasn't talked to me in days and then I show up here, where I knew I wouldn't be welcome, and then he seems happy to see me but…" He trailed off.

Matthew gave him a thoughtful look. Arthur really couldn't explain the feeling in his stomach, it was as if his intestines were dancing on their own accord and he felt sick. He was doubtful and full of conflicting emotions he didn't understand. He didn't want to talk to Alfred, or even about him, but he found himself empty whenever he wasn't there. Matthew, understanding as always, shut the door to the fridge and placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"No," He said sternly, his deep aquatic eyes stared into Arthur's emerald ones, almost as if he could pour the truth into them with only his gaze. "No, Al is not mad at you. He just, well he has things to think about that's all. And you are always welcome here. I wouldn't worry about it too much. This week is going to be fun, trust me!"

He beamed that bright carefree smile and shoved the beer into his hands.

"Now, go drink and stay out of the kitchen!"

Arthur chuckled weakly and cautiously etched his way around the opposite side of the island from where Francis was chopping vegetables with unnecessary force. He took a deep swig from the bottle, smiling as he lowered it.

He scanned the room again. Ludwig and Roderich were drinking together on the couch, well not really together, more like next to each other. At the bar, Gilbert and Antonio sat watching Francis with rapt interest, whispering heckling comments as if they were watching a nature documentary. Well, right up until a knife embedded itself into the polished bar-top between them. Both men jumped and quickly swung around on their stools to face the living room. Arthur looked back wide eyed at the Frenchman who was still intently working at the island. Matthew, on the other hand, was nonchalantly moving the block of knives to the other side of the kitchen.

The Italian brothers were apparently discussing wine by the cabinet that housed hundreds of empty bottles along the wall of the dining area. It was then that Arthur's eyes drifted out to the deck, visible through the glass wall.

There, standing alone under the porch light was Alfred. He leaned over the deck railing staring out to the lake. It was freezing outside; Arthur didn't understand what he would possibly be doing out there alone. The snow drifted lightly to the ground, occasionally picking up and dancing around in the gusts of wind. A thin coat already dusted Alfred's bomber jacket.

Arthur just stood there watching for several long moments. He was being pulled apart and it kept him rooted to the spot. On the one hand, Alfred clearly wanted to be alone. On the other, Arthur really wanted answers. He watched Alfred stare out over the railing, hardly moving save for the unconscious swishing of his (already drained) glass of bourbon.

Arthur sighed, knowing no good would come of trying to drag the stubborn American back in from the cold, he elected to instead join Ludwig and Roderich. He shot one last hopeless glance in the American's direction before noticing that he was being watched. Looking back at the kitchen, he saw Matthew observing him intently. The Canadian's gaze flitted between his brother and Arthur; it felt as though he silently tried to send telepathic communication. But Arthur was tired, and in no real mood to start a fight that would most certainly occur if he tried to approach Alfred.

Instead he decided to mope as well and plopped himself on the couch in a huff.

* * *

Matthew stood in the kitchen watching Arthur for a few more moments as the Brit made himself comfortable on the far end of the couch, bolshily sipping his beer and scowling.

"Stubborn pair of idiots." Matthew grumbled as he ducked under the counter to retrieve a pan.

They were exhausting. Alfred was never going to directly let Arthur know he was upset, and Arthur was never going to ask. Matthew groaned as he slammed the pan on the burner with slightly more force than he intended.

"Mathieu, love, please don't mistake the stovetop for Arthur's face. It did nothing wrong," Francis hummed.

Matthew sighed but made no other comment and joined Francis at the island to continue preparing dinner.

"How did you get him to show up anyway? It seemed he was pretty set on not coming" Matthew asked after a tense silence.

Francis chuckled mischievously and looked up, shooting a cautious glance into the living room to the sulking Brit. He then whipped out his phone and handed it to Matthew.

"Oh God, you didn't!" Matthew burst out, trying to control his giggles.

There on the screen was a none-too-flattering portrait of Arthur: mouth agape, hair a tousled mess, and his arms desperately clutching a stuffed unicorn.

Matthew attempted to give Francis a condemning look as he handed back the phone, a gesture made completely unremarkable due to the grin plastered on his face.

Francis shrugged looking particularly smug and placed the phone safely back in his pocket.

"For such a posh gentleman, he cannot hold his liquor." He stated simply.

Matthew reached up and cupped the side of Francis's cheek to get his attention.

"You are such an idiot" he smiled and placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

"Maybe," Francis chuckled, "but for some reason you still love me."

Matthew gasped as Francis quickly dropped his spoon and wrapped his arms tightly around Matthew's waste. He felt heat burn from the touch and travel up his spine to his neck. Francis simply held him there for a moment, staring into his eyes, ice blue sky crashing down to deep ocean indigo. Matthew lost his breath; his mind was an incoherent mess, and when their lips finally touched it was as if he lost the rest of his body completely.

Francis had that effect on him. Every single individual nerve in Matthew's being was pulled to his embrace. His soft lips gently locked on Matthew's own and sent sparks across the sensitive skin. He had such true passion and love that just the touch of him begged the attention of every cell in Matthew's body, and he gladly succumbed every time.

_Francis must literally be a magnet_, Matthew thought in his clouded high. Yes. It was the only explanation. Francis was a powerful magnet that pulled at the iron in his blood and made his skin prickle and his heart pump harder. When they broke apart his body had to remember to beat and move on its own without the powerful external force guiding it.

Francis smiled at him and brushed back the single curl that always sprang in front of Matthew's eyes whenever he was flustered.

"Je t'aime, Mathieu," Francis whispered.

Matthew grabbed his hand and trailed light kisses down his wrist.

"Je t'aime aussi de tout mon cœur," he replied.

Francis smiled back at him with that look that made Matthew feel like he was the only person in the entire world. All too often he felt like no one saw him, but Francis always looked at him like he was the only one that was worth seeing.

They quietly returned to dinner preparations, albeit with slightly flushed cheeks, and smiled as a comfortable silence fell between them.

* * *

"I don't even know why I'm here," Arthur grumbled to himself as he settled on the couch next to Roderich.

Roderich smirked in response and took a long sip of wine. Yes, he knew the feeling. He had just been sitting awkwardly on the couch since they got to the house. The question of why had crossed his mind the whole drive over and continued to do so since their arrival.

"I have been thinking the same thing," he replied, swirling the wine in his glass.

Arthur turned to him as if he only just noticed that the brunette was next to him. He nodded thoughtfully, "Hmm, Francis does have a knack for getting people to say 'yes' doesn't he?"

Roderich scoffed a laugh, "Yes. Yes, I suppose that's true."

He couldn't rightfully blame Francis for his current predicament. However, the man's gift of getting people to agree to things (whether by smooth words or blackmail) was a fact of his nature. Still, Roderich was sure that the Frenchman had not intended to cause him distress. Though Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert had all bullied him when they were children, that was many years ago and since that time they were all very different people. In fact, the trio had become the closest things to 'friends' that Roderich had left.

"So, how have you been Roderich?" Arthur asked conversationally.

"Oh, I've been alright. We are preparing for a series honoring Chopin this summer, it should be quite lovely." Roderich smiled kind-heartedly at the Englishman in return.

"Sounds wonderful, you should set me up with tickets old friend."

Roderich nodded politely and continued sipping his drink and swishing his glass absent-mindedly.

"And how is Elizaveta?"

Roderich nearly spat out his wine. The resulting coughing and hacking that occurred also caught the attention of the large German on his other side who began whacking the poor, sputtering Austrian unceremoniously between the shoulder blades.

"From what I've heard, Arthur, it's best not to ask," Ludwig whispered behind Roderich who was still doubled over trying to catch his breath.

Well that had done it. Having had quite enough, Roderich pulled himself upright and rounded on the German.

"And what -cough- _exactly_ have you heard?" Roderich spat and narrowed his eyes at the stunned German.

The shock at hearing Roderich's venomous tone gave Ludwig pause. However, the German's shocked ice blue eyes relaxed quickly and his gaze softened into a knowing look.

"I've heard nothing other than specific instructions not to bring it up," he stated in his usual authoritative matter-of-fact tone.

"Hmph."

Roderich was highly doubtful that that was the case. He continued to pierce Ludwig with his burning violet eyes before allowing his gaze to stretch past him to the German's idiotic older brother chatting casually with Antonio at the bar.

"Keep that arschloch bruder of yours out of my business." He hissed, now focusing his attention on burning a hole through the silver-haired maniac's head. It was bad enough that Francis knew what happened, but the last thing Roderich wanted was for Gilbert Beilschmidt to go running his mouth to everyone on this godforsaken planet.

Ludwig followed Roderich's gaze and snorted.

"Bruder has not spoken of your business, he simply warned me that you were a bit… _oversensitive_ about the matter…"

"O-over… _oversensitive_?!" Roderich repeated, sputtering incoherently for a moment as his eyes snapped back to the blonde on his left, but Ludwig was no longer paying attention. The German's body was stiffened to full attention and he was emanating a distinctly defensive aura that caused Roderich to lose his train of thought. He followed Ludwig's line of sight to see Feliciano bouncing happily as he grasped Antonio's hands and led him off down the hall.

_Well that's not good_. Roderich thought, intimidated by the now dangerously pale German next to him. The brunette decided it was probably wise to drop the conversation but chose to send one more death glare in the direction of the angry German's brother.

He really shouldn't have done that.

Gilbert, now left alone at the bar, had turned his focus to Roderich and was staring at him. Roderich found his eyes locked in the shameless scrutiny of the other man's deep ruby eyes. The intensity of the look he gave him chilled Roderich's blood. He remembered himself just a moment longer than was appropriate and narrowed his eyes into the best leer he could muster. It must not have been particularly intimidating, because Gilbert curled his lips on one side into a predatory smirk and winked.

_Scheiße_.

The former icy feeling that ran through Roderich's veins heated instantly to a boil. The change was so abrupt he felt he may pass out and immediately dropped his gaze, cursing himself as he tried desperately to suppress the blush that flooded his cheeks and neck.

"Roderich? Are you ok? You look ill." Arthur placed one hand on Roderich's back and the other on his knee trying to stable him. "I'm sorry I brought it up, I didn't realize you were having troubles," he continued.

"No, its quite alright, I shouldn't have gotten upset." Roderich breathed out, patting the hand on his knee.

Just as he raised his head to give Arthur a reassuring smile and thank him for his kindness, Roderich was welded in place by a vice-like grip on his shoulder.

"Roderich, right?"

Roderich cautiously turned up to see the owner of the painfully forced cheerful voice and found himself face-to-face with their host. Alfred stood directly in front of him, one hand clutching a glass of bourbon, the other tightening its grip on Roderich's shoulder. Roderich nodded slowly.

"Roddy, I hear you like music! Did you know we have a piano room here? It's mostly used for receptions and things when people have gatherings here in the summer! How about I show you?" Alfred continued to smile at Roderich in a way that made it very clear he did not have a choice in the matter.

On one hand he was very excited to hear that he would not have to go a whole week without music; but on the other, Roderich was certain that this man was not wanting to give him a tour out of kindness.

Without waiting for a reply the American practically pulled Roderich from his perch on the couch and swung a guiding arm around him, leading him out to the hall. Roderich looked back to see a very shocked and very angry Arthur clutching his beer far too tightly.

Alfred led him to a set of double doors near the entrance to the home and swung them open. Inside was a long darkened room with sets of plush green chairs around low glass tables. In the corner was a stocked minibar and to its right a beautiful Steinway grand piano. Roderich mutely made his way over to the piano, brushing his fingers lightly over the polished exterior.

"Like it?" Alfred's voice broke through the silence.

"Yes, its lovely." Roderich hummed and turned back to smile at Alfred, but the look the American gave him froze him in place.

"Good. You are welcome to use it however much you like." Alfred was no longer smiling and cheerful but his eyes were steady, almost threatening. Roderich stepped backwards as Alfred got closer.

He leaned in close to Roderich's face.

"The next time you find yourself wanting to touch something that's not yours, I suggest you find something better to do with your hands."

The large American had spoken so low and quiet that Roderich was not entirely sure he heard correctly, but he could smell the distinct bite of alcohol on his breathe, and he got the message clear enough. He nodded in affirmation and looked steadily back at Alfred. The blonde nodded curtly, evidently satisfied, and swept out of the room.

Roderich's knees gave out under him and he unsteadily allowed his body to fall to the piano bench under him. _Damn Americans._

He took a deep breath and spun himself around on the bench with ease. Ah, music. At least he wouldn't be alone. He smiled to himself as he gracefully allowed his fingers to dance along the edge of the keys. This he knew, this was where he was comfortable.

* * *

"A-Antonio? Can we talk?"

Antonio looked up with interest to see Feliciano nervously tapping him on the shoulder.

As if they both had the same thought, the two turned to see the elder of the Italian brothers busy skirting the perimeter of the kitchen to get to the wine. Antonio chuckled at the sight.

"Of course Feli!" he whispered, "But perhaps it's best if we go somewhere more private, yes?"

The Italian nodded enthusiastically and sent one more cautious look into the kitchen. Lovino had ducked down and was attempting to crawl to the wine cooler to avoid Francis's wrath.

"Ve~! Yes, I know just the place!"

He beamed at Antonio and grasped his much larger hand, leading him off down the hall.

"Hmm… This way!" Feliciano said, turning the corner down to the basement.

The basement was quite sizeable with a large media room complete with plush couches and an impressive movie projection set-up. There was also an outdoor living area revealed by a sliding glass door that led out underneath the covered deck from the floor above.

Feliciano crossed the room and sat on one of the couches, nervously wringing his hands. Antonio smiled at the poor, adorable, little Italian before making his way over to sit with him.

"What's going on Feli?" Antonio asked after giving Feliciano a few moments to open and close his mouth several times, clearly unable to start the conversation.

"Oh! Yes, well… you see uh…" the little Italian started pulling at the curl in his hair while Antonio waited patiently.

"It's about Lovi, um Lovino… I love fratello very much! I do! But I was really looking forward to spending time with Ludi and then Lovi just insisted that he come too because he thinks I need to be watched and now he won't let me be alone with Ludwig for even a moment and I had just hoped… I mean I thought…"

Feliciano had started talking so fast he paused a moment to take a breathe.

"I don't know what I thought, but I just… I wanted to spend time with Ludwig… and I don't know what to do now. This whole trip is ruined." Feliciano finished his rant and glared at the floor with tears prickling in the corners of his eyes.

Antonio was shocked for a moment, he supposed this was the closest to angry that Feliciano ever got, and it was a strange mix of amusement and pity that welled up inside him as he looked at the Italian.

"Your brother does seem to be quite a spirited person," Antonio mused, remembering the feisty young man who had fallen into his arms. _He looked adorable the way he blushed though_…

"Yes he is. He isn't as mean as he tries to be though, but he does hate Ludwig." Feliciano smiled softly, "well, he hates everyone I date."

Feliciano immediately paled.

"N-NOT THAT WE ARE DATING! We are j-just friends! I didn't mean that! I-I mean, oh merda, I don't even know how Ludwig feels. I shouldn't have said that…"

Antonio's face lit up and he grinned wildly, slapping the flustered Italian on the back.

"Oh Feli! How cute! You love Ludwig?! Gilbert will be so happy!" Antonio beamed as Feliciano turned a deep shade of vermillion.

"I didn't say that! Oh please don't tell Ludwig!" Feliciano turned to look pleadingly at Antonio.

The Spaniard smiled back at him and grabbed both of Feliciano's small slender hands in his own.

"Do you trust me Feli?" He asked seriously.

"Sì, of course! That's why I told you."

"Then I will help you on your quest for love! I will do my best to distract Lovino, and also help you get Ludwig to admit his feelings!"

Antonio gave a satisfied nod and Feliciano hesitantly nodded back.

"Grazie Toni, but… How do you know Ludwig even thinks of me that way?"

"Oh mi amigo, I am a Spaniard! If there is one thing we understand, it's amor!" Antonio's green eyes danced as he threw a wink at the little Italian.

At that, Feliciano beamed and threw his arms around Antonio in a shockingly tight embrace.

Their mirth was cut short, however, by the sound of someone clearing their throat near the stairwell.

Antonio broke from Feliciano's embrace, and turned to see none other than the Italian's terrifying doppelgänger standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking particularly murderous.

"Ah, Lovi! Hello!" Feliciano chirped, still partly straddling Antonio and completely oblivious to the appearance of the situation.

Antonio's heart sunk. This certainly was not the best position, but he had been in worse, so why did he feel so guilty? Moving those uncomfortable thoughts aside, he gently pushed Feliciano off of him and rose from the couch.

"Dinner is ready." Lovino grunted flatly before bolting up the stairs.

Antonio almost reached out to stop him, maybe explain, but what would he even say? And why did it even really matter? He sighed and followed, heavy-footed, up the stairs.

_Así, mierda._

* * *

Lovino sat at the corner of the table, sourly stabbing at his pasta. Fucking pasta. French bastard probably made it just for fucking Feliciano. Lovino sent a side glare to his brother on his right.

He really should have expect this, everyone always loved his perfect little brother best. And why not? He was more talented, smarter, and sure as hell more sociable.

But still. It bothered him.

"Lovi? Are you alright? You're not eating."

A hand slipped onto his left knee and Lovino tensed so quickly his fork bent in half.

"Don't call me that," Lovino growled through gritted teeth at the Spaniard invading his personal space.

Antonio quickly removed his hand.

"Perdóname," he mumbled.

Lovino flinched at Antonio's suddenly passive and quiet tone. He felt empty and hollow, and it was compounded by the loss of his touch.

_This is ridiculous. Fucking pervert_. Lovino thought bitterly, though he wasn't sure if it was about Antonio or himself.

The chatter around the table died away as Alfred rose from the end, clearing his throat.

"Alright guys! So we should probably decide sleeping arrangements there are two bedrooms upstairs and two in the basement, as well as the Master's Suite. Now, I think it's fair that Mattie and I get the Master Bedroom."

Lovino had noticed Matthew start to open his mouth before Lovino chose to jump at an opportunity.

"I think that's a great idea Alfred!" he said. "Brothers can all stay together, after all there are you two and then I will of course stay with Feliciano and Ludwig can stay with Gilbert."

"But Lovi I-"

"Non! Alfred you can't be serious, Matthew is not staying with you."

Francis had risen from his chair on the opposite side of the table. He and Alfred glowered at each other for several tense moments as the table silently waited.

"I don't need you de-flowering my brother under my roof." Alfred snarled.

"Alfred it's not-"

"Oh it wouldn't be the first time," Francis chided making Matthew pale.

"Well I can't stay with West. We haven't shared a room since childhood. Trust me, you guys don't want to deal with the consequences of us bunkered in a room together." Gilbert chimed in to break the awkward silence.

"I'll stay with you Ludwig!" Feliciano piped up.

Before Ludwig could even open his mouth, Lovino slammed his fist into the table.

"Absolutely not! Alfred, Feliciano will be staying with me in one of the upstairs bedrooms."

Feliciano looked like a kicked puppy and a part of Lovino's heart chipped off. However, he had to protect his brother. _I'll be damned if I'm going to let any of these horny bastards take advantage of him._

Gilbert had started laughing hysterically.

"Oh West, entschuldigung, these guys are making me feel like a terrible older brother. Well, Roderich and I can always share a bed," he turned to wink at the now very flustered Austrian.

"No." Roderich said flatly.

Gilbert looked only mildly dejected.

"Fine, your loss. What about you Anton? We can stay in the basement with Francis and his little Canadian toy."

"Of course amigo!" Antonio smiled, agreeable as ever, Lovino stiffened.

"Okay, so I don't mind staying with Roderich upstairs." Arthur finally spoke up.

"NO!"

Lovino looked up to see both Alfred and Roderich had spoken up. Roderich flushed and glared at his empty plate and Alfred glared at Roderich.

"I-I mean. I-I'll stay with Ludwig, um, if thats ok." Roderich asked Ludwig.

"Ja, sure."

Francis's smile lit up the dining room.

"Mon Dieu! I guess it looks like you and Arthur get the main floor room together!" Alfred turned bright red and Arthur quietly avoided eye contact with everyone.

"That's fine. If you can deal with it." Arthur mumbled at Alfred.

Alfred was silent for a moment.

"Yea fine. Whatever."

"Great! It's settled!" Francis clapped his hands and rose from his seat. "I'll go get our things and put it in the basement love." He pecked Matthew on the cheek and disappeared back to the main hall.

* * *

Arthur placed his duffle on the king bed and began fishing out a change of clothes as Alfred entered the room.

"Don't worry I'm just grabbing some of my things," Alfred said, passing him to zip up his own suitcase in the corner.

Arthur looked back at the American, confused.

"What do you mean? Where are you going."

Alfred stood, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

"The living room. I'll take the couch."

Arthur froze. Now this was getting ridiculous.

"What you you mean_ I'll take the couch_. I thought you said you were fine with this?"

Alfred met Arthur's eyes. He looked like he was trying to explain colors to a blind man.

"There is only one bed in here."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything? Quit being stupid Alfred! It's not like we haven't shared a bed before. I know you're mad at me, you've made that quite obvious, but I'm bloody well not going to let you sleep on the couch in your own house! If you are so upset about it I'll… I-I'll just go!"

Arthur slammed his duffle on the bed and began forcefully shoving its contents back in. The audacity of that blasted American! Completely unreasonable git.

Suddenly a large slightly sun-kissed hand covered his own that was angrily tugging at the bag's zipper.

"No don't."

Alfred's voice was small, apologetic, sincere, all tones that Arthur had never heard before. He turned to face the taller man who was stubbornly avoiding eye contact by glaring intently at the ground.

"I'm sorry. I just… I didn't think you would want to stay in here with me. But fine. I'll stay. Just don't go," he whispered.

Arthur was at a loss for words. Alfred slowly removed his hand and walked across the room to pull out a change of clothes. He had closed the bathroom door quietly before Arthur remembered to exhale. His hand prickled where Alfred had touched it.

How odd, he sighed. _Bipolar imbecile._

Shrugging off the unreasonable, if slightly more favorable, moodswing of his crazy American best friend, Arthur climbed under the covers and sank comfortably into the sheets. He had already begun to drift to sleep as he felt the weight of the bed shift and felt the comforting heat of Alfred's body next to his own.

* * *

The next morning Ludwig woke slowly. He nuzzled into his covers breathing in their linen fresh scent. It was a comforting smell, it reminded Ludwig of the cusp of spring. He smiled a rare smile and allowed his heavy eyelids to open.

Strange. His pillow was moving… no… _breathing_.

Adjusting to the morning light, his eyes began to focus. Slowly the blur of his vision transformed the redish-brown figure to become more defined.

"FELICIANO VARGAS!"

The door to the bedroom slammed open to reveal Lovino seething in the entrance. Ludwig sat bolt upright, dislodging what he could now see was a cozy, comfortable (and kind of adorable) Feliciano from his arms.

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

Translations:

Je t'aime aussi de tout mon cœur = 'I love you too, with all of my heart' (French)  
arschloch bruder = 'asshole brother' (German)  
Scheiße = 'shit' (German)  
Así, mierda = 'well, shit.' (Spanish)  
entschuldigung = 'sorry' (German)  
Perdóname = 'forgive me' (Spanish)


	3. Chapter 3

Ludwig wasn't sure what to say. He quickly fumbled to pull Feliciano back to the bed before the little Italian could topple onto the floor from the sudden shift in position. Out of reflex, perhaps for fear of his safety, Ludwig pulled Feliciano close to his chest and wrapped his strong, protective arms around the smaller man's slight frame. Feliciano was hardly fazed and nuzzled his face closer to Ludwig's chest, his chestnut hair tickling the German's chin.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BROTHER?! LET GO OF HIM RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" Lovino roared, but still made no move toward the larger man.

By this time, Roderich had woken from the other bed and blindly groped at the nightstand for his glasses. Once retrieved, he took a moment to observe the scene before him. The Austrian made eye contact with Ludwig and raised one accusatory eyebrow, nodding his head at Feliciano in a quizzical way. Ludwig simply shrugged; desperately hoping that Roderich would understand this was in no way his intended way of waking up.

To his surprise, Roderich started chuckling, his chest heaved as he tried desperately to suppress the fit of giggles that was now overtaking him._Giggles? He was giggling?!_ Both Ludwig and Lovino gaped at the Austrian as if a rabid animal had bitten him. Finally, the fit subsided and Roderich, clutching his side, rose from the bed.

"Oh my, just like him isn't it?" He laughed again and wiped a tear from his eye before excusing himself from the room, pushing past Lovino.

Lovino and Ludwig stared after him, completely forgetting their current state, until Feliciano began to stir in Ludwig's arms. The blonde slowly detached him and laid him back down in the bed as he stood up.

"Feli?" He shook him gently, "Feli, wake up."

Lovino, noticing his brother was awake, rushed to the other side of the bed.

"Feliciano?! Did he hurt you? Why are you in here? What were you thinking?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the blatant accusations behind Lovino's questions and waited for the sleepy Feliciano to respond.

"Ve~? Oh! Buongiorno fratello!" Feliciano smiled sleepily at his brother, swinging his legs over the bed and stretching his arms, comfortably unaware of the thick tension in the air around him.

Lovino began cursing under his breath in Italian.

"Feli," Lovino repeated, obviously trying to suppress his frustrations, "What are you doing in this man's room?"

"Hmm?" Feli looked around the room in question before his eyes fell on Ludwig. Ludwig's heart jumped as Feliciano smiled at him in recognition, his sleep-addled memory seeming to return.

"Oh yes! Scusami Ludwig! You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you, but I couldn't sleep last night. Fratello hits me in his sleep… Not that he means to! It's just difficult to sleep with him and I sleep better with you, so I didn't think you would mind!"

Feliciano smiled innocently and Ludwig's heart sped up as memories flooded back to him.

* * *

_Ludwig wasn't really sure how he felt. Ultimately, he supposed he had made the right decision to stay in America to attend University, but still, he was homesick. It had been 5 years since he had followed his older brother and his friends and left Germany._

_It was the same University they had attended. Gilbert, Antonio, Francis, and Roderich had already graduated, but the school had offered Ludwig a full academic scholarship, and he couldn't find it in himself to say no._

_He set his suitcase on one of the beds and sat next to it, looking around the room in uncertainty._

_"Oi West!" Gilbert came trudging into the room carrying three boxes stacked on top of each other. "You just gonna make me get everything then?"_

_He unceremoniously dropped the boxes in the corner and looked back at his brother, his smile immediately fell._

_Damn, Gilbert knew him too well._

_"Hey, come on. What's going on? I thought you were excited!" His silver haired brother said as he sat next to him on the bed._

_Ludwig flinched._

_"I am, I am. It's just different; I got to stay with you while you were in school. Why can't I stay at home? I don't want to live in the dorms."_

_Gilbert smiled sympathetically and threw an arm around Ludwig's much larger shoulders._

_"Because West, you're smarter than me! You need to make other smart friends. It's not that I don't want you at home but it's really for your own good. The school offered you a scholarship that includes housing. When I came here, Antonio, Francis and I… well we didn't get along well with the establishment…" Gilbert laughed, "But now you are old enough to start making your own friends and living your own life. I won't be far and you can always call me."_

_Gilbert ruffled his brother's slicked back hair and clapped him on the shoulder before standing up and offering his hand. Gilbert had a way of always telling him what he needed to hear, which is largely why he was not overly fond of being separated from him again._

_"You'll make friends in no time bruder," Gilbert assured him. He looked around the empty room, "where is your roommate anyway?"_

_Ludwig looked around the room as well and realized he was in fact the first one moved in._

_"I'm not sure, I guess he isn't here yet," Ludwig paused._

_"I hope he isn't insane or something," he added, mostly to himself._

_"Kseseseseseses! I'd think you'd welcome the insane after living with us West!"_

_Gilbert and Ludwig spent the rest of the morning uniformly unpacking all of the boxes before Gilbert insisted on giving Ludwig the 'way more awesome tour' of the campus._

_Late that afternoon, after Gilbert bade him farewell, Ludwig sullenly made his way back to the dorm room._

_He paused outside of the door when he heard a commotion inside. It seemed his roommate had moved in._

_"I don't understand Feli! Why can't you stay at home with Grandpa and I? You are breaking his heart you know!" the man's voice was deep and thickly accented._

_"Lovi, Grandpa was the one that helped me apply for school here, he said he wants me to get out and learn more," a second, higher voice responded._

_"Learn more? Learn more what? Learn more about partying and bad decisions? No Feli. I don't like it. Do you even know anything about the guy you are living with?"_

_"No, the school assigns the rooms, but he seems neat at least," the second man paused, "fratello, please don't worry about me."_

_"I'm not worried," the first man grumbled. He was not a good liar, Ludwig noted._

_Ludwig didn't want to enter, he felt like he was intruding, even if it was his own room._

_A cell phone rang on the other side of the door and Ludwig heard the first man answer and start speaking in rapid Italian. After a few moments he heard an audible sigh and the man hung up._

_"Feli, I need to go. Grandpa needs me at the restaurant."_

_"Oh, that's ok! Ti amo fratello! Mi mancherai!"_

_Ludwig stepped back out of the doorway just a moment too late as the door swung open and he found himself face to face with a small, angry looking man. The man slowly looked up at the large imposing figure of the German and shrunk back._

_"C-can I help you?" He asked accusingly._

_"Uh, no. I live here." Ludwig answered moving out of the man's way._

_The Italian paled and looked horrified back into the room. Ludwig followed his eyes and noticed the other young man standing inside bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. The two looked shockingly similar, clearly brothers, though the one standing inside the room looked much more pleasant._

_"Feli, THIS is your roommate?!" The angry man asked incredulously._

_"Uh, yes." Ludwig answered. This man was very rude; he hadn't even gotten to introduce himself yet. He stepped past the man, into the room and offered a hand to his new roommate._

_"Ludwig Beilschmidt, pleased to meet you." He waited with his hand outstretched as the little Italian looked down at it then beamed back up at Ludwig, ignoring his hand and throwing his arms around his shoulders._

_"Ludwig! How nice to meet you! I am Feliciano, or Feli if you prefer!" He continued hugging Ludwig, while his brother remained standing in confused shock on the other side of the room._

_"Oh! Ludwig, that's my brother Lovino, say 'hello' fratello!" Feliciano removed himself from Ludwig and smiled encouragingly at his brother._

_Lovino turned bright red with anger and was about to open his mouth when his phone rang again. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two men in the room and the phone in his hand before he groaned and yelled into the phone, walking out the door and slamming it behind him._

_"I'm sorry about my brother, he is just busy," Feliciano stated looking sadly at the door._

_They spent the evening together talking and getting to know each other. Well, Feliciano did most of the talking, but he asked a lot of questions. They talked about their brothers and their families. Ludwig found out that Feliciano's family owned a restaurant and that he and his older brother lived with their grandpa. His brother supported the family business and shared their passion for food, but Feliciano loved art and his grandpa had encouraged him to pursue his education and someday he hoped to become an art teacher._

_Ludwig was immediately enamored with the little Italian. Though he was far too personal and more cheery than what Ludwig was used to; the two were quick to become best friends._

_Several weeks later during midterms, they both were up late studying. Ludwig poured over his books spread across the desk while Feliciano lay on his bed doodling in the margins of his notebook. He never really studied._

_Rain steadily fell on the window and in the quiet of the room Ludwig relaxed. He loved the rain, especially storms. As he closed his books to turn in for the night lightning illuminated the room immediately followed by a deafening crack. Feliciano yelped and threw his covers up over him, huddling underneath._

_"Its just a little storm," Ludwig soothed as he pulled back the covers of his own bed and comfortably slid himself in._

_Silence was the only response offered to him. Now that was something new. Silence. Feliciano and 'quiet' never went together. Concerned, he looked over at Feliciano's side of the room._

_The little Italian was barely noticeable, except for the steady shaking of the covers. Another lightning strike and low rumble of thunder revealed that Feliciano was indeed still awake judging by the cry and soft whimper that came from the bundle of blankets._

_"Feli, are you alright?" Ludwig asked, now sufficiently worried about his friend's emotional state._

_"I don't like thunder," the soft voice replied from across the room._

_"Uh, ja. I got that much." Ludwig tried not to laugh._

_Sighing, he removed his covers and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of Feliciano's bed and placing a hand on the bundle. Another thunderclap and a hand shot out from under the blanket and pulled him down. Ludwig couldn't help but let out a laugh, this time in surprise._

_"Alright, alright. It's okay," he pulled back the covers slightly to reveal Feliciano's face and immediately his heart constricted. Feliciano was crying._

_"Feli?"_

_"I-I'm sorry. I –" he started, Ludwig waited patiently._

_"Our parents… it was storming. It's stupid I know. Stupido. We were in the car and it…" Feliciano didn't need to finish before Ludwig pulled him to his chest in a protective embrace. The little Italian curled in and fit his head perfectly in the crook of Ludwig's neck. Ludwig gently smoothed Feliciano's hair with one hand and held him tight around the middle with his other._

_Lightning again, and Feliciano clung to Ludwig's chest for support._

_"Lud- Ludwig? Can you just, can you stay with me?" Feliciano asked, not meeting his eyes._

_Ludwig's heart beat hard and heavy in his chest and he was certain Feliciano could feel it._

_"J-ja, of course," he replied._

_Feliciano grabbed the covers back to let Ludwig slide underneath before curling into his chest. His breathing smoothed out and he slowly stopped shaking, eventually drifting into a steady sleep. Ludwig kept his arms wrapped tightly around him the whole night._

_"I'll always stay with you" he whispered, once he was sure the little Italian couldn't hear._

* * *

Ludwig sighed at the memory.

"No Feli, I don't mind," he whispered, "but your brother does."

Lovino was continuing to glare daggers at Ludwig before rounding back at Feliciano.

"I wouldn't hit you if you stayed on your side of the bed," was all he was able to spit out before thumping his brother lovingly on the head.

"He didn't hurt you? You didn't do anything… _inappropriate_?" Lovino asked, looking accusingly back at Ludwig.

"Inappropriate?" Feliciano returned. "What do you mean? Ludwig and I always sleep together."

Ludwig paled and shot Feliciano a _shut up_ look, determined to avoid the bright red beacon of renewed anger that was coming from Lovino.

"Nothing happened." Ludwig assured him. "You can even ask Roderich, but I assure you nothing happened."

"Keep it that way, potato bastard," Lovino growled and pushed himself up off the floor to head downstairs, but not before looking worriedly back at his baby brother.

Ludwig sighed again, now in relief and looked back at Feliciano.

"Mmm, I'm hungry Ludi! Let's get breakfast!" The little Italian man smiled.

"Ja, but I think I'm going to get dressed first, maybe let your brother cool down for a while."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him, Lovi is just Lovi. But okay, I'll go get ready too." Feliciano chirped and bounced out of the room.

Ludwig sprawled out on the bed as soon as he was out of sight.

_What am I going to do with you?_

* * *

"Stupid Feliciano. I can't believe he is so ignorant! He is going to get hurt one of these days, and then what will he do? Come crying to me that's what."

Lovino continued to grumble all the way to the kitchen. It wasn't that he didn't want his brother to be happy he was just realistic. People sucked.

Lovino froze when he stepped into the kitchen and came face-to-face with quite possibly the _last_ person he wanted to see at the moment.

Antonio.

The Spaniard was wearing loose fitting pajama pants and a stretched out long sleeve shirt that fell past his hands and off of one of his perfectly toned shoulders. He ruffled his already dreamily messed up hair as he reached to open the fridge. The man looked like fucking sex-on-legs.

Lovino stood by the bar, staring shamelessly until Antonio turned from the fridge with a carton of eggs and smiled that perfect smile back at the startled Italian.

"Así, buenos días guapo, ¿has dormido bien?"

"I was fine until I found my brother in bed with that German bastardo," Lovino replied, but he quickly froze, looking wide-eyed back at Antonio whose eyes lit up in excitement.

"¿oh, usted habla español?" he laughed

"No!" Lovino exclaimed in defense, "Fuck!"

Antonio laughed harder at that and poured Lovino a cup of coffee.

"Oh Lovi, you are very cute," he teased.

Lovino's face flushed bright red, but he moved closer to accept the cup from Antonio.

"Stop calling me that, bastard," he mumbled.

Antonio ignored him and continued pulling cheese, tomatoes, and other ingredients from the fridge.

"I am making omelets, would you like one?" he asked.

Lovino's stomach groaned quite audibly as he eyed the tomatoes.

"No," he lied.

"Oh? Are you sure? I make fantastic tomato omelets, even Francis says so!"

Lovino's stomach growled again in protest.

"Ugh, fine whatever," he said, and grabbed one of the tomatoes from the counter.

Lovino nibbled contently at the tomato as Antonio worked. The atmosphere was oddly comfortable to Lovino, as if just being in this man's presence put him more at ease.

"So what was that you were saying about Feliciano and Ludwig?" Antonio asked, breaking the silence.

Lovino scoffed.

"Well, you have some competition that's for sure. I found them in bed together this morning," Lovino paused, his brow furrowed slightly. "I don't think they've done anything yet, Feli wouldn't be able to lie to me, he's a terrible liar. But I don't trust that German bastard as far as I can throw him."

Antonio looked up from the skillet and turned to face Lovino.

"Competition for Feli? Oh Lovi, I'm not interested in Feliciano, but I do think him and Ludwig make a cute couple, I said that three years ago," he quietly turned back to the stove.

Lovino laughed humorlessly.

"Please, everyone is interested in Feliciano, it's always been that way. He's perfect. The ignorant child can't even see it, all of these people pining after him. Everyone loves him and he hardly notices anything. That's why he needs me."

"And what do you need Lovino?" Antonio asked, turning again to look him directly in the eyes. His emerald irises pierced him the way they did the first time they met, looking inside him, past all of the walls.

Lovino crushed the tomato in his hand in surprise and broke the contact, wiping up the mess and discarding the remnants in the trash bin.

"It doesn't matter what I need," he mumbled finally.

"That's not true at all," Antonio replied, setting a plate in front of Lovino and watching him expectantly.

Lovino took a hesitant bite of the omelet. He almost fell apart in ecstasy. It was delicious! Heaven in breakfast form! His eyes rolled back and a thankful moan escaped his lips.

"Ah good! You like it then!" Antonio grinned.

Lovino nodded and shoveled the rest of the meal in his mouth, unable to control himself enough to savor the delicacy.

Antonio just smiled watching him eat as if he was the only person in the universe, and his enjoyment of Antonio's cooking was the most important thing in the world.

As he finished eating he became steadily self-conscience of the intense staring that was coming from the Spaniard. Why did he have to keep looking at him like that?

"Lovi, you are important, how you feel matters," he said seriously after a moment. "You don't need to be perfect. It's a person's imperfections that make them beautiful. People are like…" he glanced around the room, "well, they are like tomatoes!"

He grabbed one from the counter and rushed back over to place it on the table in front of Lovino.

"Tomatoes?" Lovino repeated.

"Sí tomates," Antonio replied. "You see, perfectly round tomatoes, well they are manufactured, they aren't real tomatoes. They look pretty but they have no taste at all. But these tomatoes," he held up a particularly ugly and lumpy looking one. "These tomatoes are organic, they are grown with love; and even though this one looks lumpy and not particularly delicious," he sliced up the tomato and handed a piece to Lovino. "The lumps are how you know it has the most flavor."

Antonio smiled and popped a slice of tomato into his mouth. Lovino did the same, and it was in fact delicious. He stared back at Antonio, completely unable to speak. How could this man, this complete stranger, seem to understand him? How was it that he continued to surprise him and say the most perfect things?

Lovino looked away, he didn't deserve to be talked to like that. He wasn't good enough to receive this kind of attention. What had he done anyway? He just yelled a lot and cursed at people.

He jumped in his seat as a warm hand cupped the side of his face and brushed a thumb under his eye. Fuck, was he crying? Great.

"You are beautiful Lovino."

Lovino hiccupped and looked back at Antonio, his face was closer now, close enough to feel his breath.

"Hey, have you guys seen Al - oh."

Antonio dropped his hand reluctantly and Lovino covered his face and wiped his eyes.

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting?" Arthur asked.

_Yes._

"No, no! We just finished eating," Antonio smiled and gathered the plates, moving over to the sink. Lovino's skin ached at his absence.

Arthur entered the kitchen and grabbed the kettle under the sink and the tea from the cabinet.

"So, yes, erm... have either of you seen Alfred this morning? He was not in our room and it is extremely unusual for him to be awake so early…"

"No, I haven't heard anything, I thought I was the first one up," Antonio replied.

Arthur nodded distractedly, determined to focus on the tea.

Lovino was the first one to notice Alfred wander zombie-like into the living room and move into the kitchen.

"Well speak of the devil!" Antonio smiled cheerfully.

Alfred merely grunted and ghosted over to the coffee pot, his hair was wet and his eyes were bloodshot. It looked like he had barely slept at all. Lovino had a small twinge of sympathy for the man. He looked like shit.

"Oh, good morning Alfred, I was just asking where you were," Arthur stated casually.

"Shower," Alfred grumbled back.

"Hmm, yes I see that, why didn't you use ours?"

Alfred sighed and took a thankful gulp of coffee before responding quietly, "Didn't wanna wake you."

Lovino and Antonio shared an awkward look as a tense aura spread from the other two men that was practically palpable in the air.

The four of them sat in complete silence for a long while, no one daring to speak. Thankfully the tension was broken by the sound of Feliciano loudly bounding down the stairs.

"Buongiorno everyone!" He sang, pulling himself into the seat next to Lovino.

"Good morning Feli!" Antonio smiled in return, clearly thankful to have another happier face in the horribly depressing kitchen.

Ludwig followed soon after, shooting Lovino a cautious glance. _Good, stupid bastard._

"Oh! So the snow has stopped from last night and I was telling Ludwig it would be fun for us to all have a snowball fight today! I love fresh snow," Feliciano said after a while.

"That's stupid. It's freezing, we are all just going to get cold and wet, we aren't children anymore Feli," Lovino grumbled next to his brother.

"I think that's an awesome idea Feliciano!" Alfred smiled, after having allowed his coffee to seep into his system he was a much different person.

"Yes, I agree that sounds fun!" Antonio added, looking at Lovino expectantly.

Lovino sighed under the gaze of both Antonio and his brother.

"Yes, yes, okay fine," he murmured reluctantly, carefully avoiding the gleeful eyes of the handsome Spaniard.

"Excellent! I'll go get the others!" Antonio announced, heading down to the basement.

Lovino watched him walk away, admiring the way the casual pajamas fell off his body in such a perfect way... he turned and slammed his forehead down on the counter. _Stop it._ He yelled at himself.

"Lovi? Lovi are you okay?" Feliciano asked, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Yes I'm fine, get off. I'm gonna go change," Lovino replied shrugging off his brother's arm.

_And maybe go take a cold shower_, he added to himself as he remembered the warm touch of the Spaniard's hand on his face.

* * *

Alfred ingested three more cups of coffee before finding the strength to maneuver his body more than an arms length from the pot.

He felt like shit. Of course, he knew there was no way he was going to get an ounce of sleep with Arthur being _right there_. Sure enough, he had stayed awake the entire night watching him sleep, thinking.

"Idiot," He grumbled as he shuffled back to the bedroom to get changed.

The shower was running in the bathroom and Alfred tried desperately not to think about it too much as he sorted through his bag for his socks.

The tap stopped.

Arthur, Arthur, Arthur… all the time Arthur… He was tired of thinking about Arthur; he was Alfred F. Jones dammit! The Hero! Not some lovesick pup! Hero's didn't _pine_ for people, especially other men. Not that he was pining. He totally wasn't.

Unfortunately, he did have an _extremely_ vivid imagination for all the things he wanted to do to the annoyingly ignorant, completely naked, Brit in the next room.

Fuck.

He slammed his suitcase shut and grabbed his clothes. The door to the bathroom opened at the same time that Alfred stood up.

Arthur casually walked into the room, dripping wet and wearing only a towel. He paused when he saw Alfred.

Alfred's heart had stopped beating, he was pretty confident every atom had frozen. Arthur looked back at him and neither made a move. Alfred tried to keep his eyes from wandering too far, but had difficulty _not_ noticing the loosely draped towel that hung precariously low on Arthur's slender hips.

"I'm sorry, did you need to use the bathroom?" He asked.

Alfred blinked several times. _Dammit move._

"No, I just came to get my pants," Alfred held up the jeans in front of him, attempting to surreptitiously cover his view of Arthur's extremely attractive frame. His hands ached to hold those hips, and his body begged him to move toward the other man, to graze his hands over his chest. But he resisted. He always resisted.

"Well, look at that! I have them!" He laughed loudly and awkwardly and turned to dart out of the room.

"Alfred wait," Arthur called behind him.

Alfred stopped with one hand on the door.

"I…" He paused, and Alfred waited with his back turned. "I'm sorry. Whatever it was I did that has you behaving this way… I am sorry."

A pain shot down the front of Alfred's chest. He still just had no idea, no _inkling._ Was it always going to be this way? What more did he have to do?

He laughed loudly and waved his hand dismissively back at Arthur.

"Oh Artie! I don't know what you're talking about! We are friends! You have nothing to apologize for!" He mustered his best smile and flashed a grin at Arthur before quickly removing himself from the room. He shut the door and leaned his back against it.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!_

Soon after, all of them were gathered out back.

"Alright guys! Time to pick teams! 5 on 5, I'll be one of the captains and…" Alfred looked around the group, "Francis, you can be the other captain."

Francis shrugged his shoulders and stood on the other side of Alfred.

"Okay! Cool! So, I pick Mattie!" Alfred called.

Matthew rolled his eyes and slumped over to stand next to his brother.

"Gilbert." Francis winked at his best friend; Gilbert gleefully stood next to him and threw an arm around the Frenchman.

"Hmm, ok, Ludwig."

"Antonio."

"Feliciano." Alfred kept his eyes fixed on the little Italian who happily ran over and linked arms with Ludwig. He could feel the shocked stares he received from Matthew, Arthur, and Francis burning on his neck.

Francis didn't call a name for a while. Even though Alfred still wasn't looking at them, he could feel Matthew and Francis having one of their silent conversations behind him.

"Right... Arthur." Francis said finally.

Alfred looked up guiltily to see Arthur walking to the far side of Francis's team, a frown tugging at his lips.

He then looked back at Lovino and Roderich. Now this was tough. Roderich looked like he had never done an iota of physical activity in his life, but Alfred sure as hell wasn't okay with him being on Arthur's team.

"Do I have to play?" Roderich whined

"Honestly, I don't really give a shit either way," Lovino added.

_Well… that was easy._

"No! Lovi you have to play!" Feliciano whined.

"Nah, it's cool, we can just do 4 on 4 I guess," Alfred shrugged.

Roderich didn't need to be told twice before wrapping his coat tighter around him and bolting inside.

_Pussy._ Alfred thought venomously.

Lovino shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets as he sauntered off to the deck to watch.

"Face and body blows are immediate outs; limbs take three hits for an out. Other than that, everything goes." Alfred announced to the group before they split off to opposite tree lines.

The rear of the property had a thin clearing in the trees that led down to the boat slip. This was the neutral zone, each side of the clearing belonged to a team. Alfred had suggested they set up a capture-the-flag scenario with Alfred's team guarding the red flag, which was nailed to a tree, and Francis's team guarding the blue.

Once on their side, Alfred and Ludwig huddled together and started drawing battle strategies in the snow to navigate the thickly wooded area while Matthew kept watch and Feliciano stayed tucked no more than arms length away from Ludwig.

"Okay, so Mattie, you stay and guard the flag and I'll take point. Ludwig and Feli, you two flank the sides and draw fire from me and I'll go and get the flag!" Alfred announced, grinning at the others.

Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Wait, who says you take point?" Ludwig asked.

"I do! I'm the hero!" Alfred cocked his head to the side and laughed at Ludwig.

"Really, its best not to argue," Matthew mumbled to Ludwig from behind Alfred.

"Right you are Mattie my boy!" Alfred sang, clapping his brother on the back. "Now, it's likely that they've got Arthur keeping guard, if Francis knows what he's doing. So, that means you guys are going to have to take on Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert."

A shudder ran through the group and everyone fell silent. Alfred pursed his lips as he thought about the implications of what he had just said.

"Yeah... I have no advice. Uh, good luck," he said finally, scratching the back of his neck and solemnly patting Ludwig on the shoulder.

"Verdammt." Ludwig rolled his head back and groaned.

Ludwig, Feliciano, and Alfred all headed near the tree line, leaving Matthew at the base.

"Ok," Alfred whispered, "I'm going to take the path near the lake, where there is more cover, and you two go run at the other side and just make a lot of noise."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully. Feliciano had started to get up and run away when the German reached a hand out to pull him back down and sighed.

"Great! Ok good luck!" Alfred said, not waiting for a reply, and ran off down the path.

He skirted the edge of the clearing, easily remaining concealed, until he got to the boat dock. As he neared the shoreline he heard a horrible piercing scream break through the stillness.

"_WWAAAAAAAA_! NO I SURRENDER! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!"

Alfred slammed his hand to his forehead and dragged it down his face. Well, to be honest what did he expect? At least it was a distraction.

He continued to lightly ease himself around the trees. He was excellent at stealth, especially in the woods. He loved the forest, the trees; nature just brought out something wild in him. He smiled to himself as he entered enemy territory and caught sight of Gilbert a few yards to his right.

The pale, silver-haired man was almost invisible in the snow. In fact, had he not been moving, Alfred might not have seen him at all. Alfred paused and watched. The older German was too close for him to risk moving.

Gilbert darted between trees with surprising grace and skill. In the clearing, Alfred could make out Feliciano huddled over in the snow with his hands over his head. Ludwig held a snowball in his hand and placed himself in front of the Italian, arched in a protective stance, standing sentinel.

"Oh mein sweet bruder, you make quite an adorable guard dog," Gilbert teased. His voice was eerily light and seemed to echo from all directions.

"Why don't you come out and you can see how the dog bites?" Ludwig's lips turned up on one side in a challenging grin just as a snowball came whizzing from the other side of the clearing.

Without missing a beat, Ludwig blocked the shot aimed at Feliciano with his leg and rounded his own in the direction of the projectile.

"Ow!" an unmistakably French voice whined.

Gilbert groaned and circled around to get a better angle on the couple.

Alfred took the opportunity and ran deeper into the woods. He slowed his pace as he neared the blue base and darted behind a tree.

Sure enough, Arthur was standing watch. His dirty blonde hair fell in front of his eyes as he knelt over a pile of freshly made snowballs.

_Too easy._

Alfred smiled to himself as he bent down as quietly as possible and formed a tight ball in his hand. In a flash he snapped up and sent it whirling in Arthur's direction.

Just as fast, Arthur dodged behind the tree that held the blue flag.

"You'll have to do better than that mate! No one knows you better than me!" He laughed with that slightly maniacal, yet still strangely charming, laugh of his and Alfred couldn't help but smile.

He checked around the tree to see if Arthur was still in sight and barely dodged a return attack that flew directly over his head, just grazing his hair.

"Maybe, maybe not," Alfred teased back from behind his tree. He bent down to grab another handful of snow and lobbed it in Arthur's direction, distracting him as he moved through the trees.

Once he had obtained a better view of the Brit, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. Arthur's phone began ringing and sure enough, he glanced down. Alfred used the diversion for a quick shot that hit Arthur's right shoulder.

"Well that's not very gentlemanly of you," Arthur called back, circling the tree again.

"I never said I was a gentleman," Alfred returned.

"No, I'd say you are pretty far from," Arthur scoffed.

Alfred's heart sank and his brow furrowed.

"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just that you're a bit of an uncivilized git," Arthur laughed.

"Yeah? Well who says I care what you think?" Alfred stepped out from behind his tree and threw the wad of snow as hard as he could in Arthur's general direction. It wasn't particularly effective, as it was a poorly formed projectile, but just as he stepped out from the tree he felt something hard hit him in the chest.

"See? I told you I knew you," Arthur smiled as he dusted the snow off his hands.

Alfred was stunned. He looked down at the fast melting blotch of snow on his torso and narrowed his eyes back at Arthur.

"You don't know SHIT!" Alfred bellowed throwing a punch at the tree next to him. The wood cracked and Alfred stormed back toward the house leaving Arthur staring after him in shock.

* * *

_Tonight's the night._

_Alfred couldn't get the goofy looking smile off his face as he smoothed his shirt collar in the mirror. He polished his glasses for the fifteenth time and made yet another useless attempt at taming the wild piece of hair that always sprang up from his bangs._

_"Alright calm down. It's just a date. It's not like you haven't been out with plenty of women before. You've got this!"_

_Alfred nodded self-assuredly at himself._

_Of course, he couldn't pretend this wasn't different. This was _Arthur._ Sure, Alfred knew how to woo women, but he honestly didn't know how to woo a man._

_He sighed, finally giving up on his hair and marched out of the apartment and to the street._

_It was only a block away to Arthur's apartment, but Alfred had still insisted on picking him up. After all he had a special surprise planned. He hadn't told Arthur where they were going; he just said he was taking him out._

He's going to be so surprised!_ Alfred mentally high-fived himself._

_He climbed the stairs to Arthur's room two at a time and pounded on the door. Arthur looked positively shocked when he answered._

_"Alfred! Wow, you're actually on time. I was expecting to have another half-hour to get ready." The Brit smiled at him good-naturedly._

_"Artie, jeez, you look great!" Alfred spewed out. He couldn't help it, Arthur did look great. He was sharply dressed in black slacks and a deep forest green pressed shirt that made his eyes shockingly bright._

_Alfred was pleased seeing the slight dusting of blush that colored Arthur's cheeks at the compliment._

_"Sorry! Yea we have an appointment so I didn't want to be late!" Alfred rushed out._

_"Oh? So does that mean I finally get to know where we are going?"_

_"No, of course not!" Alfred laughed, "You'll know when we get there! But until then, no peaking! There's a car for us downstairs."_

_Arthur looked even more surprised._

_"You're not driving?"_

_"Nope, tonight we travel in style!"_

_Alfred stuck out his elbow and Arthur grabbed the crook of his arm, allowing him to be led back down the stairs._

_Outside was a sleek black town car, the driver was already waiting and opened the door for the couple when they arrived. Arthur looked back and met Alfred's gleefully dancing eyes with an even more confused gaze. Still, Alfred saw the rare the grin he wore as he slipped into the car first. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it pulse in his skin, but it was a good feeling. A great feeling._

_After a relatively short drive to the Lincoln Center Theater, Alfred hurried out of the car, rushing to beat the driver and open the door for Arthur first._

_"Ta-Da!" He exclaimed; grinning brightly as Arthur stepped out of the car and Alfred watched as the realization hit him._

_"We are going to the Theatre ol' chap!" Alfred said, mocking Arthur's accent poorly. He was having trouble not exploding from enthusiasm, watching him expectantly._

_"Wow!" Arthur said finally. "Wow, Al, I don't know what to say. This… This is a surprise!"_

_He met Alfred's eyes and shook his head, laughing._

_"I have to say, I was pretty sure we were going to turn up in Atlantic City or something." He laughed again. "This is wonderful Alfred! What are we going to see?"_

_"Macbeth!" Alfred said proudly, holding his arm out again and leading Arthur to the building._

_After the play the two walked to a nearby upscale restaurant where Alfred had made reservations. It wasn't normally Alfred's style, but tonight was about treating Arthur._

_The evening was going perfectly, and Alfred didn't think anything could bring him off of his high. They spent all dinner talking about the play. Alfred listened to Arthur tell stories about the curse of Macbeth and about Shakespeare. He always loved Arthur's stories._

_Alfred's father worked internationally and did business with Arthur's father. The Brit had more or less been a mentor to him as a child and their relationship had grown into so much more over the years. Alfred remembered fondly how the older child would tell him ghost stories. Arthur was a wonderful storyteller and enjoyed terrifying Alfred, but would always comfort him and indulge his feats of heroism in return._

_They chose to get after-dinner drinks at a back-end bar. It was around the sixth or seventh glass of scotch when things started to go wrong._

_"Hey! Barkeep! Another!" Alfred slammed the glass down on the counter and threw an arm around Arthur._

_The bartender narrowed his eyes at the pair, but produced two more glasses for them._

_Arthur eyed the glass warily and groaned._

_"Urgh, Al -hic- I think I'm good," he slurred, patting Alfred's leg._

_Alfred tensed at the touch and tightened his arm around Arthur's shoulder._

_"Aw c'mon, what's wrong? Can't hold your liquor?"_

_Arthur slumped into Alfred's chest and nearly fell off of his stool. Alfred buried his nose in Arthur's hair, he was sure he had never been this happy._

_"Hey bud, we don't need none of your homo shit in here," a large burly-looking man near them growled across the bar._

_Arthur started giggling, and Alfred started to rise from his stool before realizing he was still supporting the majority of Arthur's weight._

_"Hey, I can touch who I want, when I want and it's none of your goddamn business!" He snarled back._

_"We're not gay!" Arthur laughed, "Al's jus -hic- just my friend!"_

_Alfred froze. He slowly turned from glaring at the man, to looking wide-eyed back at Arthur._

_"What?" he asked._

_"Looks like someone's not getting laid tonight," the man sneered._

_Alfred's whole body went rigid. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a darkness fell across his eyes._

_He carefully sat Arthur back up and leaned his weight on the bar. After making sure that he was safely staying put, he walked over to stand nose-to-nose with the other man._

_They glared at each other, no one breathing. In a flash Alfred grabbed the man's beer bottle smashing across the side of his skull and knocking his head into the bar top._

_In the shocked confusion that followed, Alfred had Arthur slung over his shoulder and left a hefty tip on the counter before the other man could pick himself back up off the floor._

_He carried Arthur to the corner and signaled their driver. Once in the car, Arthur laid his head thankfully against the cool glass and Alfred followed in after him._

_They sat in silence as they drove back to their apartments. Alfred was lost, he had to say something, what did Arthur mean? Hadn't he said this was a date? Wasn't it obvious?_

_"Arthur?" Alfred asked tentatively._

_"Hmm."_

_"Arthur, do you have feelings for me?"_

_Arthur laughed._

_"What a silly question!" he replied, reaching over to pinch Alfred's cheek "You're so cute Alfie! You're my best friend, of course, I love you!"_

_Alfred felt his chest constrict and his blood turn to ice. Arthur was smiling dazedly out the window._

_Fuck._

_Alfred dismissed the driver and helped Arthur back to his apartment. The lightweight passed out as soon as he hit his bed. Still, he looked unbelievably beautiful in his sleep._

_Alfred brushed his hand gently across the sleeping man's face. So beautiful. He wanted to do more. Maybe if he talked to Arthur... he leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek._

_Well... maybe in the morning._

_He walked alone to the living room, completely lost to the world. His thoughts couldn't focus; every single brilliant moment of the night had shattered into oblivion. He curled up on the couch. The damn British drunk was awful at handling hangovers. Alfred was going to need to be available in the morning._

_He awoke to a loud groaning from the adjoined room._

_"Fuck! Al, you bloody git! My head! URGH… why'd you let me drink that much?"_

_Alfred sighed and pushed his body off the couch, dragging himself to the bedroom._

_"Hey I didn't force them down your throat," he replied dryly._

_"Maybe not, but you started it," Arthur groaned, pulling the covers up over his head. "Why do you have to be so irresponsible?"_

_Alfred scoffed. He was used to this. They would drink; Arthur would have way more than he could handle, and then he'd be completely miserable to deal with the next day._

_"Did you get into a fight last night?"_

_Alfred tensed. Fuck. How much did he remember?_

_"It wasn't much of a fight," he responded airily._

_Arthur threw back the covers and glared back at Alfred. His hair stood straight up on one side._

_"Alfred," he scolded, "honestly, sometimes you can be such a child."_

_Alfred gaped back at him. Was he serious? Grumpy hung-over Arthur was one thing…_

_Heartbreaking realization aside, last night had been wonderful, and Alfred had been determined to focus on the positives._

_But now he was shocked back into being honest with himself. Alfred was never going to be good enough in Arthur's eyes. No matter how nice a time they had or what grand gestures he could make, it will never change the fact the Alfred will always just be a child to Arthur._

_"Maybe you're right." Alfred hung his head and avoided Arthur's eyes._

_How could he have been so blind? Alfred was lost in his thoughts as he turned to leave the room without another word, he didn't even hear Arthur calling after him. It wasn't until after he got back to his own apartment, short of breath, that he realized he had run away._

* * *

Alfred slammed the door to the bedroom and locked the door.

This was just too much. Why did Matt and Francis bring him here anyway? Just to fucking torture him? Sick French bastard.

His stomach turned somersaults and he clutched his abdomen as slid down the door to the ground.

_Just an uncivilized child._

He reached to grab the lamp from the bedside table and hurled it at the wall.

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

Translations:

Buongiorno = Good Morning'(Italian)  
Ti amo fratello! Mi mancherai! = I love you brother! I'll miss you! (Italian)  
Así, buenos días guapo! ¿has dormido bien? = Well, good morning handsome! Did you sleep well? (Spanish)  
¿oh, usted habla español? = Oh, do you speak Spanish? (Spanish)  
Verdammt = Damn/Fuck (German)


	4. Chapter 4

**OK :) So I posted the first 4 chapters all together to catch up to my AO3 posts... from here out they will be posted at the same time. I hope you like it! the next chapter will start to get more into the haunted house and spookiness ^-^ hopefully I will update again next week!**

* * *

Roderich sat alone at the piano, glad to be excused from participating outside. He was never fond of physical activity, and he certainly was not fond of Alfred in his present condition.

His fingers grazed the ivory with the sensitive touch of a gentle lover. He was usually pleased whenever he had time alone with his thoughts and his music. He delicately plucked the keys, smiling softly as the beautiful tones filled the room.

His smile faded as the music continued. He didn't _really_ want to be alone though. Of course, he didn't want to be _with_ anyone else either. But that wasn't new. He never understood people; he only knew they let him down.

The music began to turn darker.

* * *

_"America?" Roderich repeated, he eyed his parents carefully; anger slowly rising in his chest as he processed what was being said._

_"Yes, America. We will be leaving in one month," his mother repeated tersely._

_"Well I'm not going!"_

_Roderich folded his arms and sank into the couch, maybe if he pushed himself far enough down they would become one and he wouldn't have to leave._

_"Yes you are, and there will be no further discussion on the matter," his father rose from his chair._

_"It was bad enough that you dragged us to Germany! But America? What about my music? What about… what about my friends?!"_

_The fifteen-year-old glared back at his father, his face began to get hot and he could feel the sharp burn of tears beginning behind his eyes. His mother let out a high laugh, shrill and cold._

_"Friends? What friends Roderich? Do you mean that awful demonic child next door and those troublemakers that visit every summer? Roderich, you don't have any friends. And as for your music, well, we won't deprive you of the one thing you are actually good at. You will be enrolled at a school for performing arts."_

_"Hopefully they will make something useful of you," his father added coldly._

_Roderich knew that there was no point in arguing. He rose from the chair and silently walked out of the living room, up to his bedroom. He wasn't going to let his father see him cry. The bastard would never let him live it down. So he kept his head held high and proudly strode from their view without another word._

_He locked the door and fell onto his bed. His stomach churned as he tried desperately to choke down the sobs that wracked his body. It must have been several hours that he stayed alone up there while the red light of dusk bled slowly into a deep starless night._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Roderich rubbed the salty crust of dried tears from his eyes as he looked up from the covers. He must have fallen asleep. It was very late now, though his parents never came to check on him. No surprise._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Roderich suddenly became aware that the noise that woke him was coming from the window. He cautiously walked over and drew the curtains, nearly falling backward in fright._

_Two bright blood-red eyes shone like rubies through the glass._

_"Gilbert! What are you doing up here?!" Roderich whispered, clutching his chest._

_Gilbert merely shrugged and motioned for Roderich to unlock the window. The terrified Austrian complied._

_"Took you long enough!" Gilbert sang, crawling across the roof and into the room._

_"What are you doing here?" Roderich asked again, he regarded the other boy suspiciously._

_"I heard our foster's talking, they said your house was going up for sale…" Gilbert locked eyes on him, "Are you moving?"_

_Roderich wasn't surprised, his friend would have found out eventually. He sighed and sat on the end of his bed._

_"Yes, we're moving."_

_"Not too far right? Like, you're still going to be at the same school?" Gilbert sat next to him, his eyes filled with cautious optimism._

_"No. A little too far away for that." Roderich fell back on the bed, his chest hurt again, he didn't want to have this conversation._

_Gilbert frowned, waiting for Roderich to explain._

_"We are going to America," the brunette said finally._

_He felt Gilbert's weight leave the bed._

_"What?" Gilbert asked incredulously._

_"We leave in a month." Roderich responded back flatly, unable to meet Gilbert's eyes. He could feel him pacing back and forth in front of the bed._

_"You are not! We have to do something! You can stay with me and West! They can't do this!" Gilbert's voice had begun to rise as he grabbed Roderich's wrist and started to drag him over to the window._

_"Don't be ridiculous Gilbert," Roderich said, pulling his wrist back, "there's nothing to be done about it. My father has made his decision and I've already been enrolled in school over there."_

_Gilbert turned and gaped back at him, his eyes were wide and bright with fire._

_"So what? You're just going to give up? Just bend over and take it?"_

_Gilbert shoved the smaller boy onto the bed and pinned him down._

_"You never could stand up for yourself!" He continued, "And now you're letting them ruin everything!"_

_"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" Roderich yelled back, trying to get out from underneath Gilbert's weight._

_"Don't go." Gilbert said seriously, his voice was quiet and he looked back at Roderich with such an earnest, pleading gaze that the young Austrian forgot his anger and the two simply stared at each other._

_"What the hell is all this noise!?"_

_Both boys turned to the door as it was slammed open and Roderich's father filled the frame._

_"Do you have any idea what ti-," Mr. Edelstein's voice broke off as he noticed Gilbert straddling Roderich. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY SON'S ROOM?!"_

_"Oh- I…" Gilbert turned ghostly white, paler than usual and looked back at Roderich._

_"I came to get Roderich!" He said defiantly, rolling himself off of the other boy and standing protectively in front of the bed, "You can't take him away!"_

_In one move Roderich's father had crossed over to stand in front of him and lifted Gilbert by the throat, slamming him against the wall._

_"Get out of my house and stay away from my son." He growled, leaning over to whisper in his ear._

_Gilbert struggled and kicked, clawing at the hand that was strangling him. Roderich was in shock, but his body moved without his permission. He rose from the bed and slammed a harsh kick into the back of his father's legs, making him lose balance long enough to drop Gilbert._

_Coughing and sputtering, Gilbert pulled himself up from the ground, shooting a terrified look back at Roderich and bolted out of the room._

_Roderich's father stood up shortly after and avoided his son's eyes, slamming the door without so much as another word._

_Roderich ran to the window that looked out toward the Beilschmidt house and saw Gilbert's crimson irises lock on his own before solemnly turning away._

* * *

Roderich paused, hovering his hands over the keys.

Gilbert, Elizaveta, Vash, his parents. One way or another, everyone let him down.

Roderich was so lost in the music he hadn't noticed he was no longer alone until a hand gripped his shoulder.

"It's beautiful when you play with real feeling, I just wish it wasn't so sad."

Roderich didn't need to turn around to recognize Gilbert's voice.

"What did you get bored outside and decide to bother me here instead?" Roderich replied coldly, ignoring the previous comment.

Gilbert removed his hand and made himself comfortable next to Roderich on the piano bench. He didn't reply for a long while, he just tinkered with the keys playing nonsense melodies.

"Alfred threw a bitch fit and stormed off, so we all quit for now."

Roderich picked up the melody and the two played together for a while. It was strange, sitting next to each other like that, not fighting.

"What do you want Gilbert?" Roderich sighed after becoming uncomfortable with the silence.

Gilbert stopped playing and turned to face him.

"I want you to talk to me."

His eyes flooded with a deeply familiar sincerity that made Roderich's throat tighten.

"Oh, and what do we have to talk about?" Roderich looked back at the piano, pretending to be lost in sheet music he had long ago memorized.

"Well, to start, you can tell me what really happened with you and Liza."

Roderich flinched.

"Why do you want to talk about that? You already know what happened. What, do you not have enough to mock me about?"

Gilbert was silent for a moment. He closed the cover over the keys and gently placed a hand on Roderich's cheek, forcing him to look him in the eye. Roderich's breath hitched. Those beautifully deep red eyes searched his own before he responded.

"I have a vague idea of what happened. But what I don't know or understand, is why?"

Roderich swallowed harshly. He didn't want to discuss this; he was trying to hide from it. Why couldn't he just pretend it never happened?

Gilbert kept his eyes locked, unwavering, patiently waiting for Roderich to decide to speak.

"I was angry," he finally responded.

"Angry?"

Roderich took another deep breath.

"Yes. Angry, and confused I suppose. When I came to America, Vash and Elizaveta were my only friends. I trusted them completely. It helped that my parent's loved Liza." Roderich laughed bitterly.

"High school and college, well, Elizaveta and I just made sense. I suppose now I realize that we were just playing dress up, but... that didn't make it hurt less when I caught her in bed with another man."

Roderich paused and glared down at his lap. He was ashamed, if he had been more attentive, maybe he wouldn't have driven her away.

"Wait, she cheated on you? You didn't tell me that." Gilbert looked at him with concern.

"I don't need your pity. I deserved what happened." Roderich bit back, then calmed.

"Vash found out about it and was furious. He took me out for drinks and well… I don't really know how it happened. Maybe I wanted to get caught. Maybe I just didn't want to deal with the lies anymore."

"Lies?"

Roderich furrowed his brow, choosing his words carefully. He looked up and locked eyes with Gilbert.

"Do you ever feel like you are wearing a mask? You have different faces to wear: son, friend, boyfriend, student. I've reached a point where I don't know what is the mask and what is real anymore. I have never been allowed to just be me. I don't even know if I would like who that person is."

Roderich looked away again and ran his hand along the dark polished wood.

"Music. Music doesn't lie or ask anything of you, it can't. People will abandon you when you need them, force you to be someone you're not. But in here, with music, I can be honest, I don't have to pretend or wear a mask."

Gilbert was silent. The two men sat quietly next to each other on the bench.

"Well that's stupid," Gilbert said finally, glaring down at his lap.

"I beg your pardon?" Roderich responded, indignant.

"You heard me," crimson eyes turned to face the Austrian. "I said: that's stupid. You are the most awesome person I know Roderich. You shouldn't ever have to pretend to be someone else."

Gilbert suddenly wrapped his arms tight around Roderich and pulled him into his chest.

"You are perfect," he whispered, "no matter what faults you think you have or what stupid things way-less-awesome people say. You have continued to amaze me since we were six years old and that has never, and will never, change."

Gilbert ruffled the brunette's hair and placed a kiss on his forehead before marching out of the room without looking back.

Roderich sat stunned at the piano.

_What the hell just happened?_

* * *

"They are just absolutely impossible!"

Francis threw himself onto the plush couch and pouted.

Antonio shook his head as he hung up his coat and removed his boots. Matthew had gone off to talk to Arthur after Alfred stormed off, and Francis was upset that his boyfriend refused to let him get any more involved.

"I think Matthew is much better suited for this situation than you are right now amigo."

Francis rolled his eyes and spread out on the couch. A siesta sounded like a great idea to Antonio, and he internally wished he could join a specific surly Italian napping upstairs.

"You know these things can't be forced." Antonio said, pushing Francis's feet off the couch and sitting next to him.

"I know, but mon Dieu! That hot-headed American is going to ruin everything!"

"I think everyone in this house could use a little loosening up." Gilbert grumbled as he entered the living room and joined his two best friends, falling into a chair.

"Roderich won't leave that room. I thought this was going to be an awesome week but now everyone is just sulking." Gilbert folded his arms and began to sulk as well.

Antonio and Francis shared a knowing look.

"He still doesn't know, does he?" Antonio asked Gilbert, giving him a sympathetic smile, though his friend never made eye contact to see it. He just sighed and continued staring at the floor.

"I abandoned him, that's all he has ever known or ever will know."

"It doesn't have to be like that, you could be happy too you know. Look at your brother, he seems to be hitting it off quite well with Feli." Francis chimed in.

Gilbert snorted.

"Yes, I do think Feliciano is good for my stick-in-the-mud brother, but that crazy ass Lovino has him too nervous to make a move," he laughed darkly, "It's funny, mein baby bruder isn't scared of anything. Except, apparently, getting that psycho's blessing for them to date."

"He isn't psycho! He just loves his brother, you should know how that feels." Antonio's face flushed and he surprised himself at how angry he sounded.

Both Francis and Gilbert looked at him in shock.

"It's just… I think he is misunderstood. There is more to him than what people see. He's not all that different from Roderich actually," Antonio said in a softer voice as he looked directly at Gilbert.

Gilbert regarded him carefully for a moment.

"Yeah. Maybe you're right…"

"Ah Amour!" Francis smiled at them, "Sounds to me like Antonio is in love!"

Antonio didn't respond. Did he love Lovino? They had only just met. But still… there was something, something that stayed buried in Antonio's chest since the moment they met on the steps outside. Lovino was completely different than anyone he had ever known. He had dated and slept around sure... but Lovino was someone, for the first time, he truly wanted to _know._

"You know what could help cheer everyone up?" Gilbert smirked. "Francis's cookies, with Antonio's secret ingredient!"

Antonio grinned back. His cousin Lars had hooked him up with some of his "recreational baking supplies" before he left.

"That could certainly make for a more interesting time," Francis smiled deviously.

Later that night, the three of them had taken plates of brownies and cookies and other snacks down to the basement and went around gathering the others for a movie night. It took a bit of coaxing to get Alfred to leave his room, but after the mention of Francis's sweets he was the first one to the basement.

The trio decided it would be in the group's best interest to just enjoy the treats rather than waste precious energy laying out the specifics of their recipe. Happily laden with plenty of snacks and alcohol, they managed to get all ten of them tucked away for a zombie-movie marathon in the media room.

They were halfway through Dawn of the Dead before Ludwig was the first to realize something was up. Feliciano was giggling hysterically next to him as one of the characters was eaten alive.

"Feli?" He smiled and tilted his head to the side, then frowned and turned to Antonio who was suppressing his own fit of giggles.

"What?" Antonio answered innocently.

"You laced the sweets."

It was a statement, not a question. Though Ludwig tried to look mad at the trio giggling on the couch, it was completely ineffective.

"Us?! We would never! How dare you!" Francis added before being hit in the arm by his cozy Canadian lover tucked into his side.

"I thought something was up," Matthew said.

"Well I'll be having another!" Alfred rose from the couch and grabbed the tray of brownies.

They finished the movie and the sweets when Arthur suggested they start 28 Days Later.

"Nuh uh! Absolutely not!" Alfred shouted, pulling the couch cushion up to his chest. "I fucking hate that movie." The space around him was littered with empty brownie trays and countless beer bottles.

Roderich laughed to himself, playing with the saucisses feuilletées and held it up to Arthur.

"Hey Arthur, do you want my sausage?" He giggled, waving it at Arthur and letting the very empty wine bottle fall from his lap.

Antonio jumped up from the couch and stood in front of Alfred who had just made a dive for the clueless Austrian.

"How about Francis puts on some music instead?" he suggested, luckily the American was inebriated enough to be pushed back to the middle of the room with relative ease.

Naturally, the Frenchman kept a playlist for just such occasions. Spontaneous raves were one of the trios favorite pass times.

Alfred calmed easily after the music began, especially with some distance put between Arthur and a certain, very drunk, Austrian. Soon enough, Gilbert had plugged his phone into the TV and was using it as a strobe light and they were all lost in the music.

Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert took over the makeshift dance floor when 'Talk Dirty' came across the speakers.

Francis pulled Matthew close as the sound swelled. Feliciano and Ludwig joined shortly after, while Antonio noticed Lovino remained on the couch.

_Been around the world, don't speak the language_  
_But your booty don't need explaining_  
_All I really need to understand is_  
_When you talk dirty to me_

Well this just wouldn't do. Antonio crossed the room and grabbed Lovino's hand pulling him from the couch. Maybe he thought about resisting, the look in his eyes was unsure, but the music was loud and the beat pulsed through their skin as they moved.

Neither spoke, no words were needed. Lovino gave in, that was enough for Antonio. They were lost in the sensation of the others touch as their bodies grinded up against each other. Antonio wrapped his hands around Lovino's hips and dipped his head to his neck. His skin smelt sweet, like the caramel color of his hair.

He spun the Italian around, looking deep into his eyes as he pulled their hips closer together. They moved to the beat and Antonio had begun to realize that he could feel something hard pressed against his leg. The music stopped and so did their movements. In that brief moment, Lovino regained his senses and flushed a deep crimson before rushing out of the room.

Antonio froze. Confused. Without another thought he turned and ran after Lovino.

* * *

"Stupid Spaniard! Stupid French baking!"

Lovino cursed under his breath as he shut the door to his room. He could feel his blood pumping hard in his skin; every nerve bristled, begging to be touched.

How embarrassing, behaving that way in front of everyone, he had better self control than that.

"Stupido!" Lovino fell on his stomach onto the bed.

"Lovino? Lovino I'm coming in!" The Italian tensed as he heard Antonio from the other side of the door.

"Lovi? Are you alright?"

Antonio came and sat next to him and Lovino stiffened, burying his face deeper into the covers.

"Go away!" his voice was muffled as he yelled into the bed.

"Lovi, it's ok, you don't need to be embarrassed." Antonio placed a gentle hand on Lovino's shoulder.

"I said go away!"

"Lovi," Antonio's voice was calm and serious, "What you're feeling, it's okay. Have you never been turned on by a guy before?"

Lovino's neck heated and he sat straight up, glaring at Antonio.

"Don't flatter yourself bastardo! I know I'm gay! I just don't dance like _that_ with man-whores like you!"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. But as bad as he wanted to, he couldn't take it back, nor could he un-see the painful hurt that crossed Antonio's beautiful eyes.

"Oh… I see... Lo siento…"

"Fuck. I didn't mean…"

Lovino and Antonio sat next to each other in awkward silence on the edge of the bed.

"Lovino," Antonio began tentatively, "I am sorry if I came on too strong. You're just... so beautiful, I couldn't help myself."

Lovino scoffed.

"It's true!" The Spaniard turned to look him directly in the eyes, "You are something different, something very special. Yes, I have a bit of …erm… experience, but the way I feel when I look at you… well that's something I have never experienced before."

Lovino's heart began to beat faster in his chest. Antonio reached up and ran his fingers delicately through the Italian's hair, gently catching the wild curl that stuck up on one side making Lovino's breath hitch.

"I won't force you into anything, and I understand if you don't know how you feel. I can wait for you to figure it out, even if you don't return my feelings."

Lovino hadn't even realized he had been moving into Antonio's touch. His mind was a cloudy haze of drugs and alcohol, but he knew he wanted Antonio more than he had ever wanted anyone. He just could not comprehend that this beautiful Adonis of a man would ever feel the same. He didn't deserve such sweet words.

"Fratello? Fratello are you in here – oh!"

Feliciano walked in just as Lovino had leaned inches from Antonio's lips. He groaned audibly and rounded on his baby brother. _Fucking shit timing._

"What?!"

"I – um – I just wanted to see if you were okay! But you seem fine, so… Bye!" Feliciano glanced between Lovino and Antonio before bolting out of the door.

"Fuck. Idiota." Lovino sighed and laid back on the bed, covering his face with his hands.

Antonio started laughing next to him.

"Oh Lovi, your brother means well, don't you think you can be a bit hard on him sometimes?"

"Someone has to be… The world can be a cruel place, and as much as I would prefer for my baby brother never to find that out, well… that isn't how things go."

Lovino stared at nothing, lost in his own thoughts and memories. _Feliciano, always so innocent and perfect._

Silence fell across the room again, the hot tension had evaporated.

"We lost our parents young, you know?" Lovino said suddenly, "Our grandpa took us in, but he babied Feli too much."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" Antonio stopped smiling and looked at Lovino, "How did they die?"

Lovino shut his eyes. He didn't really want to talk about this, but something about Antonio just caused him to say whatever was on his mind. He didn't worry about being judged, he just felt calm.

"I was six, Feli was three. We were driving and there was this storm, couldn't see a thing on the road. I had been yelling, whining about something I can't really remember… when my dad turned around, they lost control and the car flipped. I pulled Feli out of the wreck, broke my arm, but our parents…"

Lovino glared at the ceiling.

"Anyway," he continued, "Grandpa took us in after that, I think part of him always blamed me. I grew up a bit of a problem child, but ever since that night when I pulled Feli out of that car… I knew I had to protect him."

Tears had started to form in the corners of Lovino's eyes as he continued to focus on the ceiling fan.

"It's not his fault, I don't blame him that our grandpa loved him more. I blame myself everyday that Feliciano never really knew our parents. It's something I can't ever make up to him. But I damn well am going to try. Even if that means I have to be a bit hard on him… he needs it, he needs me."

They sat together as a quiet stillness fell between them again. Lovino had almost forgotten that Antonio was there with him until a large warm hand held his own, tight and secure. Antonio pulled the young Italian upright and held him in a close embrace. Lovino let the tears flow freely onto his shoulder, no longer caring to put up a show or any walls. He wanted to be as close to Antonio as possible.

Antonio said nothing, he didn't need to. They just held each other alone in silence, lost to the rest of the world.

* * *

Gilbert was only vaguely aware that Antonio and Lovino had left. At the moment he had far more pressing concerns. Namely: a _highly_ intoxicated Austrian who was clearly trying to get himself murdered.

"Arthur! Arthur! Did you know -hic- did you know that they say penis- peenusts- ...piano players are exceptionally talented with their hands?" he said, leaning in close to Arthur and placing a hand on his leg. The Englishman giggled airily in response, clearly not fully understanding Roderich's words.

Alfred on the other hand, heard everything. In less than a heartbeat he had grabbed Roderich by the collar and was dragging him out to the hallway.

"Dummkopf." Gilbert sighed, running after them before too much damage could be done.

Alfred threw Roderich to the ground.

"I thought I had made it clear that you need to back the fuck off," Alfred said.

"Hey Al, buddy. Let's leave the guy alone, ja? He's clearly not making good decisions right now, and you and I both know he has no real interest in your little British butt buddy."

Gilbert stood protectively in front of Roderich with his hands up in a defensive position. Alfred was steaming as he narrowed his eyes at the pair.

"Stay out of this," he growled and moved to push Gilbert out of the way.

Gilbert's bright red eyes flashed and he grabbed Alfred's arm, bending it back and slamming him into the wall.

"Now Alfie, that's no way to treat your guests. You may be bigger than me, but right now you are in no condition to be fighting anyone. So how about we try this again and you take your pretty face back to your lover, while I look the other way."

His voice was low and deadly. Gilbert really didn't want to fight the American. Intoxicated or not, the younger man was very dangerous. Still, he wasn't going to let Roderich get hurt either.

Alfred pushed himself back off the wall and shrugged free of Gilbert's grip.

"Take him somewhere else," he snarled, before turning his back on them and retreating to the main room.

Gilbert let out a thankful breath. _That was close._ He turned back to Roderich who was silently laughing on the ground.

"Alright, come on, up you get," Gilbert said as he grabbed the underside of Roderich's arm and pulled him up. The Austrian wobbled dangerously for a moment before Gilbert chose to pick him up bridal style and carry him to his and Antonio's room down the hall.

"What were you thinking? Do you have a death wish?" Gilbert sighed, placing Roderich on the bed and sitting next to him.

"Stupid American threatened me yesterday. I figured I should at least give him a reason if he was going to do it anyway. Besides, I can take him."

"You're an idiot," Gilbert laughed throwing his head back in exasperation. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah? What do you care anyway?" Roderich spat, "It's not like you're ever there for me!" His violet eyes were wild and unfocused but the words still cut Gilbert to his core.

"I've always been there Roddy, even if you didn't know it," he whispered, staring at the ground.

Roderich scoffed.

"You left me! I don't need you, I didn't need you then and I don't need you now!" He made a weak attempt to shove Gilbert off the bed.

The dull pain that never completely left Gilbert's chest grew into a sharp agony that spread through his whole body. Was that really what Roderich felt? Had he still not forgiven him?

He couldn't take it. He had to tell him. Gilbert reached up and grabbed both of Roderich's shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Roderich, I…" he swallowed, his heart pumped hard in his chest. "Everything I have ever done, I did because… because I was trying to help you."

He reached his hand up and ran his fingers through the Austrian's soft chocolate brown hair. He couldn't say it, couldn't bring himself to face the rejection he had been trying to avoid for years. But still, sitting this close to the man he had loved desperately and completely his entire life, he wasn't sure he had any self-control left.

His fingers tightened around Roderich's hair as he brought their lips together.

All sense of being left Gilbert's body. The world melted away, and for a few brief seconds there was nothing except the two of them.

Then, as quickly as it happened, reality struck through him like a bolt of lightning and he snapped away. He was no better than Vash like this. He wanted it to be real, more than just a passionate drunken opportunity.

"Roderich, I'm so sorry… I -"

Gilbert was cut off as a pair of soft warm lips crashed back onto his own.

Any previous thoughts Gilbert had about personal restraint were lost. He drew their bodies closer together as he deepened the kiss, curling his fingers through Roderich's hair and pulling his head back to expose the soft porcelain skin of the Austrian's neck.

Gilbert bit and placed gentle kisses along his jawline, taking pleasure in the soft moans that escaped Roderich's lips. He brought their mouths together again and felt Roderich's tongue seeking permission to enter, which was graciously granted.

Gilbert was shocked and pleased by the force of the smaller man as they fell backwards onto the bed. Roderich's strong, dexterous hands clawed under Gilbert's shirt, pulling it off of him. Gilbert, overcome in the heat of passion, wasted no time ripping Roderich's top in turn.

They paused for a moment, catching their breath as Gilbert drank in Roderich's body with his eyes. He admired how well the man had grown over the years, from his flawless ivory skin to his lean handsome frame. He quickly pushed himself up and rolled over on top of the slim brunette before bringing their lips together again.

Roderich's hand began to slide up the inside of Gilbert's thigh, grasping firmly through his jeans, making Gilbert moan in pleasure.

Roderich removed his hand and gently directed Gilbert back down on the bed as he turned over him and lightly traced his fingers along dip in his hipbones. He broke from Gilbert's lips and moved to place light kisses along his hips and stomach. Gilbert felt the tight strain against his jeans release as Roderich freed him and brought their lips together again, grasping Gilbert's length with a strong steady hand.

Gilbert broke their kiss and gasped as fire rippled through his body.

His hips thrust upward with every long stroke of Roderich's hand. His fingers dug into the other man's back, his whole body moving in the careful rhythm of the Austrian's touch.

He wanted more, _needed more._ Every inch of Gilbert's body begged him to be a part of Roderich's.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that the door to the room opened.

"Scheiße!"

Roderich rolled off of Gilbert just as the German sat bolt upright in bed, tucking himself back in his pants.

"Ah! Lo Siento! I'm so sorry!" Antonio stood in the door, wide-eyed.

Gilbert was about to yell at him to get the fuck out and leave them alone when he was snapped back to reality by the distinct sound of vomiting. Roderich was doubled-over the side of the bed emptying the contents of his stomach.

Gilbert sighed and ran a hand through his messy silver hair.

"Give me a minute Toni, I'm going to get him cleaned up and let him sleep in here tonight."

Antonio gave him a sympathetic smile and walked out.

Gilbert swung around and rubbed Roderich between his shoulders.

"Come on, lay down, I'll take care of it."

He tucked Roderich under the covers and brushed the hair out of his face, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Gilbert left the room and returned quickly with some washcloths and carpet cleaner. He placed a bottle of water next to the bedside table for Roderich and set about cleaning the carpet. When he was finished he got up to find Antonio.

Everyone had left the basement by the time Gilbert came back out. He looked around the destroyed room when a faint red flicker caught his eye. Someone had lit the fire pit outside.

The harsh bite of wind wrapped around him as he stepped out on the back patio and recognized Antonio, bundled up in his winter coat and huddled by the fire.

"Man, you have some shit timing," Gilbert sighed as he lowered himself into the chair.

"Yea, sorry about that. It seems to be going around," Antonio replied, shooting him a side-glance and taking a long drink from his beer.

They sat quietly together for a while as Gilbert lit a cigarette and rolled his head back to the sky. The moonlight drifted in and out of sight as thick patches of clouds swept across the night.

"I'm kind of glad though," he admitted after a while. He wasn't even sure if Antonio was still paying attention.

"Oh?"

Gilbert smiled remembering the brief ecstasy of Roderich's lips on his own. He had wanted it for so long, he never wanted to let that feeling go.

"It doesn't make sense," he took a long drag from his cigarette and put it out, turning to face Antonio, "but I didn't want it to happen like that."

Antonio laughed. For a moment Gilbert almost thought about punching him, until he looked at him and saw the sad, distant look in his eyes.

"I think I know exactly what you mean." He smiled that warm, loving, carefree smile Gilbert knew too well, and the two laughed together.

They stayed up for a while longer until the small fire burned to coals and the frost in the air came to be too much to handle. They made their own makeshift beds on the basement couches. That night Gilbert slept more comfortably than he had in many years.

* * *

Roderich awoke the next morning in a fog. Flashes of memory flickered in his mind as he drifted in and out of his consciousness: Strong, rough hands digging into his back, warm breath and soft lips tickling his skin, ruby-red eyes staring deeply back at him.

Roderich snapped up in bed, immediately regretting the motion. He doubled over, pressing his palms to his temples and groaning. Blinking several times he glanced around the room. His first thought was recognition that this was not the room he stayed in the first night. The second thought was significantly more disturbing. Why was he in someone else's room, and without his shirt no less?

As if it called to him, his eyes laid rest on the shredded remains of his amethyst slim-fit dress shirt.

Realization of the hazy memories from the night before began to sink in and Roderich's eyes widened in shock. Gilbert. How far had things gone? He moved his legs over the side of the bed. Pants. Okay, that was a good sign.

How could he have been so foolish? Roderich leaned over and put his head between his legs. He and Gilbert?

Okay, maybe years ago Roderich thought that possibly… but since that time the German had broken his heart, ignored him for years, and made himself into the playboy of New York. Memories of Gilbert's eyes turning away from him played on repeat in his mind. No. Roderich couldn't bare the thought of being hurt like that again. He couldn't bring himself to entertain the possibility…

It was a one-time thing. Not even a thing. Gilbert got hands-y all the time; it was best they just forget. It was a mistake, no need to make anything more of it.

He pushed himself up and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, catching sight of the water. Roderich suddenly became aware of how excessively dehydrated he was and downed bottle immediately.

It was relatively late in the morning judging by the soft daylight that filtered into the basement room. He noticed Gilbert and Antonio asleep on the couches and felt a pang of guilt. He must have taken over their room. He wasn't ready to face Gilbert just yet, or ever. He chose to sneak as quietly as possible past them and up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, he was surprised to hear voices from the living room. He had been pretty confident he was the first one awake.

"I just don't understand Alfred! Why won't you talk to me? It's obvious you are upset, just tell me what the bloody hell I did already so I can apologize!"

"I'm not upset!" Alfred shouted back.

"Yes, because that was convincing," Arthur retorted tartly.

Roderich had thought about turning around and escaping back to the basement when Alfred spotted him, shooting him a glare that made Roderich's knees buckle. Arthur turned to see what had stolen Alfred's gaze.

"Ah, good morning Roderich, we didn't wake you did we?"

"Uh, nein, I just came to get some coffee," he responded, nervously watching Alfred. It appeared the brutish American was emanating more hostility than usual this morning.

Arthur smiled at him warmly and Alfred rolled his eyes. Roderich took the opportunity to side-step past them into the kitchen.

"Alfred, please, you can't stay mad forever," Arthur whispered harshly, "If you won't talk about it, then stop behaving so immaturely!"

"I'm not being immature," Alfred spat.

Roderich watched from the corner of his eye as Alfred turned on his heels and strode from the room. His long legs carried him quickly back to their bedroom.

Arthur threw his hands up and groaned, turning the opposite direction to join Roderich in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about that," he sighed, "Alfred never has been one to express himself well. He used to be very open, told me everything he was feeling and then some, but lately…"

The Englishman trailed off sadly. His hand froze over the teakettle.

"I just wish… I just wish I knew what he was thinking."

Roderich looked over his shoulder but didn't respond. He got the feeling Arthur wasn't really talking to him, though he sympathized. He didn't want to express himself or face things either. Maybe it was better if he talked to Gilbert, rather than ignore him. He should just explain that he knew it was a one-time thing and that it won't happen again.

At that moment Gilbert stumbled into the kitchen. His hair stood up on one end and Roderich internally noted how handsome he looked, even half asleep. He shook his head vigorously from the thought and took a deep breath.

"Gilbert, I'm glad you're awake. Do you mind if we speak outside for a moment?"

Gilbert looked back at him with sleepy recognition. Roderich chose not to wait for a reply as he poured a second cup of coffee and shoved it into the German's hands, waving at Arthur and steering Gilbert outside.

It had warmed up considerably since the day before. Roderich stared out at the lake and enjoyed the chills from the breeze and the warmth from the sun. He allowed Gilbert to get a few gulps of coffee in before he spoke.

"Gilbert. Last night was a mistake," He rushed out, not being able to make eye contact or steady his heart.

"I… I am sorry for behaving the way I did. I don't remember much, but I remember enough. It should never have happened and I believe it is best if we both forget it and move on," he finished diplomatically.

Roderich continued to stare straight forward. He was consciously aware of the warmth of the other man next to him and desperately wanted to turn around and bury himself in those strong arms. But he had to be focused. He wanted Gilbert to know he didn't think it was a big deal, that he could be casual too.

Gilbert said nothing. Roderich could still feel the heat of his gaze though, and refused to meet his eyes.

"Is that how you really feel then?" Gilbert finally responded after a while.

Roderich's heart jumped into his chest at the tone in Gilberts voice. It sounded foreign and distant.

"Yes," he replied firmly.

He felt Gilbert move to stand behind him and shivered at the touch of the warm hand that was placed on his shoulder.

"If you want to move on, I understand," he said, leaning in closer to Roderich's ear.

"But I won't forget it," he finished; his warm breath made Roderich shiver and his heart throb.

Roderich looked down over the rail of the deck and felt Gilbert's body move away. He cursed himself for the ache he felt with him gone. He refused to move or turn around until several moments after he heard the door slide open and then closed again behind him.

He hadn't even noticed he was crying until the hot tear fell from his eye, dissolving the snow on the banister.

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

Translations:  
Mon Dieu = My God (French)  
Lo Siento = I'm Sorry (Spanish)


	5. Chapter 5

**Whew! I am so so sorry this took so long! Life happens and work gets in the way (etc etc excuses...)**

**I will finish this fic but I apologize if he updates come a little slowly sometimes.**

**Reviews are good motivation to keep going :) Also, for information on updates follow my Instagram thundersnowfic**

* * *

"Alfred? Al, are you just going to stay locked in there forever?"

Matthew paced outside of his brother's bedroom. This was getting ridiculous. He was reaching a point where he was relatively convinced his brother might need significant mental help for his mood swings.

He shook the thought away and pounded on the door again.

"Alfred Franklin Jones, you open this door RIGHT NOW!" Matthew shouted.

The strain of his own voice speaking so loudly startled him, and must have startled Alfred well enough too. A moment later, the door swung open revealing the disheveled and slightly concerned looking American.

"Alright Mattie! Dude chill out!" he sighed, scratching the back of his head.

Matthew huffed and pushed past his brother. Enough was enough. He strode to the middle of the room and put his hands on his hips, glowering at Alfred as the taller twin shut the door again.

"You are ruining this vacation and I have _had_ it! You are being _completely_ unreasonable! You can't keep running off and throwing temper tantrums and making Arthur feel like shit if you won't even tell him why!" Matthew threw his hands up and glowered at his brother.

Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I really don't think Arthur could care less what I do. He has classier people to spend his time with, like that prissy-ass musician," Alfred paused and shot a look back at his brother, raising an eyebrow, "I can see why you don't like him."

Matthew froze.

"Is that what this is about? Roderich?" he asked, silently cursing Francis for even inviting the Austrian in the first place.

"It doesn't matter," Alfred shrugged, "Jeez Mattie, what is this Dr. Phil?"

Alfred laughed loudly and walked over to sit on the bed, grabbing the baseball he always kept with him off the nightstand.

"It's not like I am in love with the guy!" He continued, casually tossing the ball in his hands, leaning back on the bed and throwing it in the air. "Its just… he treat's me like a child and I've started realizing that maybe we are just different people."

Matthew prayed for patience, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alfred. Your argument makes ZERO sense. You _are_ acting like a child, and _of course_ you are different people. That doesn't mean that you can't be friends with him or you know… anything." He finished awkwardly and stared at the ground, deliberately avoiding his brother's eyes.

He peaked up when Alfred didn't respond. His brother was lying on the bed and glaring at the ceiling. The baseball stayed frozen in his hand. Alfred's knuckles visibly tensed around the lacing.

"You know what, you're right." He said after a moment. His features relaxed and Matthew gaped at him in shock.

"Uh... I am?"

"Yea!" Alfred popped up in bed and smiled back at Matthew.

The Canadian was completely lost now.

"So, uh, does that mean you're going to talk to Arthur?" He asked tentatively.

Alfred laughed loudly and shook his head.

"Oh hell no, that's girly shit. No, I meant you're right about this vacation being lame! But don't worry Mattie! It's nothing a good old-fashioned American barbeque can't fix!"

Matthew didn't know what to say. Was Alfred really being serious right now?

"Think fast!"

The next thing Matthew knew, Alfred's baseball was imbedded in his forehead. It cracked off the front of his skull and Matthew fell to his knees cursing in French.

"Seriously Al?" He yelled, clutching his head.

"What? I said think fast." Alfred shrugged and pushed himself off the bed, stretching his arms. He yawned loudly.

"Ok, so I'm gonna take a shower and then get stuff for burgers and you can go get firewood for the pit tonight."

Alfred turned his back on his brother without another word and shut the door to the bathroom. Matthew stood up still rubbing his throbbing head and grinding his teeth in annoyance before resigning himself to tracking down more pleasurable company.

* * *

"We could always lock them in their room until they bang it out," Francis pondered aloud as he and Matthew walked hand-in-hand through the snow.

"I am pretty sure that would just end with us being tried as accomplices in a murder trial," Matthew responded flatly.

Francis stopped walking and turned to Matthew, smiling at him fondly while gently brushing his fingers across the small lump on his boyfriend's forehead. _Damn Americans._

"That probably wouldn't be the worst outcome," he said frowning as Matthew recoiled from his touch.

Francis sighed heavily and rubbed his temples.

_What to do, what to do?_

"Ve~! Ludwig! What about these?!"

Francis looked up to see Feliciano running up to Ludwig while struggling to haphazardly carry a pile of sticks.

"Uh… nein… that's not…" Ludwig sighed as he looked at Feliciano's eager face. "Um… never mind, ja, that's fine."

Francis smiled at the exchange. At least some good was coming from this vacation. He nudged Matthew, who also turned to watch the couple, then walked up to Feliciano and put an arm around his shoulder.

"Feli, did you know Ludwig here used to have a pet stick?" Francis smiled at the flabbergasted German. "And for once that's not a euphemism," he added winking at Feliciano's bewildered expression.

Feliciano turned quizzically to Ludwig and Francis sighed dramatically.

"Ah yes, poor little Luddy was never very good at making friends. It seems most people tend to find him… disagreeable." _Not unlike a certain stubborn British tart I know_. Francis thought to himself.

"What? How could anyone not like Ludwig! He is brave and strong and he listens to my stories and he yells a lot, sure, but only when people are being mean, and plus he holds me when I can't sleep and doesn't make me feel bad when I cry!"

Feliciano reflexively latched himself around Ludwig's arm; making the large German flush a deep shade of crimson. Francis laughed and ruffled Feliciano's hair. This was the kind of love that made sense to him, complete devotion and commitment. Feliciano and Ludwig may not have admitted their feelings directly to each other yet, but they also didn't need to. It wasn't nearly as complicated as Arthur and Alfred's situation, two people who needed things laid out in black and white in front of them… and then needed their faces smashed together a few times for good measure.

Francis was always a bit of a meddler, but in all honesty it was something he prided himself in. To him, everyone deserved to find one great love in their life, and too many people in the world were too stubborn or broken to find it. Those people needed help, and Francis discovered early on that he was more than up for the task.

His own One Great Love had almost passed through his life without being given a second thought. He was too consumed with his lust for love to notice how it felt for himself.

His eyes met Matthew's and his heart skipped lightly.

_Yes_, he thought, _everyone deserves to feel this way at least once in their life._

"Well Feli," Francis continued, "We are all certainly glad that you and Ludwig found each other. How long was it that you have been together now?"

"Three years, since freshman year."

Feliciano's casual response was made more entertaining by Ludwig's complexion shifting from brilliant red to a deep purple as he attempted to stammer a correction in Feliciano's ear.

Francis chortled, choosing to ignore the German's stammers, and allowing him to be steered away and scolded by Matthew.

"Was that necessary? Do you always have to make people so uncomfortable?"

"Ohonhon! Mathieu, mon cher, I was just having a little fun!"

Matthew attempted to give Francis a condemning look. The Frenchman, however, was all too familiar with the flicker of amusement that ghosted behind those deep almost-purple irises and merely laughed, slipping his arm comfortably around Matthew's waist.

"Not everyone likes your prying you know. Your _fun_, as you call it, is a large part of what's gotten us into this mess," Matthew stated, surprising Francis with the bitterness in his tone.

"Why would you say something like that, amour? I just give people little nudges that's all. There is no harm in offering a little guidance."

Matthew met his eyes dead-on, stunning Francis with his conviction and sudden seriousness.

"It's one thing to try to help people, but you need to look at the bigger picture. Your actions can have negative effects also." Matthew paused, averting his gaze and shrinking back to his usual quiet demeanor. "Bringing Roderich was a mistake, helping that… that voleuse d'homme, is causing more problems than helping anyone."

Matthew glared resentfully at the ground and Francis took a step back in shock.

"Mathieu…"

"Alfred is jealous, and it doesn't suit him," Matthew mumbled, avoiding Francis's shocked and concerned gaze.

"_Alfred_ is jealous? Or _you_ are?" Francis asked pointedly making Matthew flinch slightly, recoiling from his own insecurities.

Francis sighed heavily. Yes, he loved Matthew deeper and more wholly than he had ever loved anyone; yet situations like these, the vehement insecurities, were constantly weaving threads of doubt around their relationship.

"Mathieu," Francis repeated his name again, pausing and letting the word hang like a heavy weight between them, grounding the Canadian and forcing his eyes back on Francis.

"I will say this a single time more, and not again. Roderich is a friend and only that. He is a threat to no one and is not to be treated as one, not by you, nor by your brother."

Matthew's eyes shifted guiltily for a moment to the side, but Francis stopped him, cupping his cheek in his hand and smiling knowingly.

"If it eases your mind at all, his heart belongs to someone else."

Matthew looked curious for a moment before Francis openly laughed, finally allowing the simple silliness of the situation to wash over him, Matthew quirked an eyebrow quizzically at him.

"I'm so sorry mon cher!" He chuckled, pulling Matthew close to his chest in a warm embrace.

"It is just, he is very pretty, non? It seems everyone wants their own little piece of Austria."

When Matthew appeared less than amused, Francis pulled his face closer and rested their foreheads together.

"Amour, I love you, and only you, more than I can express through the mind-numbing simplicity of words or song or any cliché that exists. What I feel for you, that is something I can't convince you of or simply tell you. You need to _feel_ it from me, not hear it, or else I am not loving you nearly as much as you deserve."

Francis pressed their bodies together and held Matthew close to his chest, embracing him fully.

They stood in the snow in silence, listening to the faint hum of the wind in the trees and feeling the pulse of one another's heartbeats.

"I love you too, Francis," Matthew finally replied after a while, causing Francis to sigh in content relief and press their lips together in a chaste kiss.

"Now, as for Roderich, I need your word that you will help keep Alfred from doing too much damage. He is a threat to no one, and certainly has no interest in Arthur. I brought him here for a reason, he has his own issues of the heart that need to be resolved."

Francis noticed Matthew started to inquire more information and he quickly silenced him with a kiss.

"Ah ah ah Mathieu, it is not my place nor yours to get involved, non? I just want to be sure that he won't be physically harmed due to your brother's obstinate insecurities."

"I-I'll try," Matthew sputtered uncertainly.

"Right!" Francis beamed back at him before leaning in to whisper seductively: "Why don't we leave those two lovebirds to finish the firewood and we go warm up with a bath before dinner?"

Matthew's face flushed several dark shades of pink and he nodded casting his eyes shyly to the side.

Francis laughed; clasping their hands together and leading them back to the house. As they neared the basement patio, Francis paused seeing a figure leaning over the banister of the floor above.

Gilbert stood alone, tapping his empty beer bottle lazily against the railing and looking out to the lake. Francis's heart fell, the lost look in his friend's eyes cut through his heart with bitter familiarity of years long past.

Yes, he would help fix this. He was not going to sit back and watch his best friend crumble before his eyes for a second time.

* * *

"Honestly Al? What exactly were you trying to accomplish?"

Arthur shuffled closer to the fire and hunched over, stoking the embers. To his left, Alfred shivered and pulled the wool blanket tighter over his head.

"Mm drmmph trmmph tmm mmv fmm!"

"Yes, because it seems like you are quite enjoying yourself," Arthur quipped sarcastically, rolling his eyes and passing the bag of overstuffed marshmallows to Feliciano who gleefully accepted them.

"Huh? You understood that?" The Italian asked.

"You get used to it. It's a similar dialect to when he eats, but only half as indistinguishable as that abominable garble he tries to pass off as 'English'."

They all sat spread around the fire pit covered in thick blankets and coats. Alfred's plan of barbequing had been quelled as soon as the wind picked up and he didn't want to stand outside alone. Instead, they had settled with roasting marshmallows and hot dogs over the bonfire.

"You guys are all lame!" Gilbert laughed, walking up behind Alfred and ripping off the blanket. Gilbert himself was wearing little more than a black wife-beater and gym shorts.

Gilbert pulled the blanket over his head and loomed over Alfred. The flashlight in his hand cast ominous shadows on the German's face, illuminating his red eyes. Arthur shuddered and Alfred fell backwards out of his chair. Gilbert looked especially demonic in the firelight.

"This chill is nothing to someone as awesome as me!" Gilbert announced.

Ludwig grumbled audibly.

"You know West," Gilbert continued, "This weather reminds me of back home in the village. Of course, you may have been too young to remember the Nachzehrer…"

Ludwig stiffened and a gust of cold wind blew through the group. Roderich's eyes widened as he turned slowly to stare at Gilbert. Arthur glanced around the company, most of them looked confused but wary. Francis and Antonio, however, seemed quite relaxed.

"What's a nack…nachs… That thing?" Alfred asked, setting himself and his chair upright again. Arthur remarked the familiar curiosity and barely concealed fear behind the American's eyes. _Here we go_… He sighed to himself.

"Why, I am glad you asked!" Gilbert cheered and hopped up on the nearby ledge, whipping the blanket around dramatically. His body bathed in moonlight and the glow of the fire.

"Many years ago, back in Germany, Ludwig and I lived in a small village." Gilbert's voice was low and even. The shocking change from his usual volume was … unsettling to say the least. Arthur kept one eye on Alfred who was leaning forward with rapt interest.

"The village, like many others, had its rumors… legends of dark forces, normally just used to terrify small children. This particular rumor dated all the way back to the Black Plague. It is said that on the last snowfall of winter the Nachzehrer will rise and claim the life of any who fall under its shadow."

Gilbert jumped off the ledge and began to pace around the circle.

"Interesting creatures, nachzehrer, they are not quite ghosts, or zombies, or vampires… No, what they are is far more disturbing. Nachzehrer means devourer of energy. They rise from violent deaths or plagues, they consume their own bodies to sustain them if they must, but more importantly…" Gilbert halted directly behind Alfred and leaned in to whisper in his ear "…They eat souls."

Alfred let out a very un-heroic whimper and Arthur stifled a laugh.

"Now," Gilbert continued, flashing a satisfied toothy smirk, "In this village there was a rumor of a particular nachzehrer. It was said that he had died of the plague, that he was the one who brought the Black Death to the village and was cursed to roam the tombs for eternity."

"I was 8 when I heard the story from an old man in the village. Naturally, like any awesome person should, I went to the graveyard to see for myself."

Arthur noticed Gilbert paused behind Roderich; he hesitated as a pained look crossed his face for a moment. In a flash it was gone, and he placed his hand on the Austrian's shoulder, making the brunette jump slightly.

"Roddy here was even kind enough to go with me and can vouch that the story I am telling you is the truth!"

"I will most certainly not indulge your idiocy!" Roderich huffed, but continued to stare at the ground.

"So," Gilbert pressed on, ignoring the blustering Austrian, "we set out to hunt the creature! It was a night similar to this, chilled as winter tried desperately to fight off the oncoming spring. We packed our backpacks and torches and set out at midnight to the town's graveyard."

"Ve~? Your parent's let you guys out on your own?" Feliciano interjected.

Gilbert and Roderich looked at each other for an instant.

"Well, what they didn't know…" Gilbert half-heartedly offered. "Anyway! As I was saying! We got to the graveyard; I will never forget how it felt. You think this is cold? This is nothing. The snow was still falling and the wind howled. Thunder rolled in the distance. It was scary as hell! But we pressed on, I had to see for myself!"

"It wasn't until we got to the older section of the graveyard that we saw it. Tall and terrifying it floated through the aisles. Its dark shroud was torn and whipping around in the wind. It turned and saw us, its one eye glowing red, even redder than mine if you can imagine!"

"Wh-What did you do?" Alfred asked, knees up to his chest as he gripped them tight.

"Well," Gilbert tapped a finger to his chin for a moment, thoughtful. "I thought about fighting it off with my awesome mad skills. But, seeing as Roddy was screaming like a little girl, we turned tail and ran home. But I will never forget it. We almost died!"

"You seem to remember a very different version of this story." Roderich mumbled; Francis chuckled at that.

"Yes well. It's not like you remember anything." Gilbert's tone sounded suddenly bitter and he made his way to sit back between Antonio and Ludwig.

"Wow! That was a good story Gilbert!" Alfred gently unfolded himself from the ball he had formed with his body. "Anyone else have any good ghost stories?"

Arthur thought about speaking up, he used to tell Alfred all kinds of ghost stories but the poor chap always ended up staying up all night terrified. Still, he constantly insisted on hearing more. Over the years it had been quite fun to come up with ways to scare the piss out of him at Halloween.

"I-I have one…" Matthew quietly spoke from Francis' side.

Arthur saw Alfred pale immediately.

"Uh… Antonio, what about you?"

"Qué? No, Lo siento. I was never much of a storyteller. Let us hear what Matthew has to say!"

"Matthew…" Alfred said, half pleading, half warning.

"Oh come on Alfred you can't still be scared of that!"

"I am NOT scared!" Alfred yelled, though the higher pitch in his tone gave him away. "Fine," He huffed.

"Well," Matthew began, sitting himself upright from Francis' arms and staring at the group through the flames. The light of the fire reflected off his glasses, hiding his eyes. "There is an island nearby, and it too has a legend. You see, back in 1913 there occurred what is now known as the 'White Hurricane', the Great Lakes Blizzard. Lake Ontario here didn't get hit quite as bad as the others but it wasn't without incident. Something mysterious happened on Køhler Island after that storm."

"Mathias Køhler was a Danish aristocrat that moved to America on family money after political changes made it difficult for him to advance in the aristocracy. He bought the island and lived there with 4 others: lifelong friends of the Køhler family, Lukas and Emil Bondevik, as well as two servants, Timo Väinämöinen and Berwald Oxenstierna."

"Mathias was well known and well loved in the town. He was energetic and always helping others, his business savvy helped build the town into what it is today. However, when the storm hit the island in November of 1913 something changed. It was almost two weeks before Mathias was seen again. But when he returned it was with something darker in him. It is said that he smiled the same smile, that he talked the same and greeted people. But there was a shadow around him, something evil came to that island in the storm."

Everyone's attention was on Matthew now. Even the wind was silent as he recounted the story.

"Through the winter Mathias was seen less and less. By February he had stopped making trips to the town. In the spring of 1914 a Polish fisherman came upon the island. The scene that he found there is burnt into the history of the fishing town forever."

"Mathias Køhler was found dead outside of his villa. He had been stabbed and bled to death on the steps of his home, his family's axe in his hand. Lukas was found buried in the woods, stabbed through the heart. Emil had been beheaded. Timo had also been stabbed and Berwald appeared to have died of exposure and multiple wounds. As best as the authorities at the time could tell, Mathias had gone mad and murdered his whole family. No one ever understood why. No one ever knew what really happened on that island."

"The Villa has been unoccupied for 80 years. After the massacre, a businessman bought the island. He died shortly after in a freak biking accident. For 20 years anyone who attempted to buy the property or touch the villa died in mysterious ways. Eventually people stopped trying and the island was deemed unfit for habitation."

Matthew paused, he glanced around the circle, every eye was trained on him, everyone was holding their breath.

"It isn't far from here, maybe twenty minutes by boat. Rumor is that it's still haunted."

The group was silent for a while, no one daring to breathe.

"We should totally go check it out!" Gilbert finally shouted, shattering the calm and making several of them jump.

"You have got to be kidding." Roderich groaned.

Alfred, however, was unusually quiet. Arthur nudged him with his elbow.

"You always were afraid of ghost stories," he joked.

Alfred shot him a look that was both hurt and torn. Arthur found himself wishing, not for the first time, that his blasted American friend would just tell him what the bloody hell he had done wrong.

"I am not afraid!" Alfred stood up, "I'm with Gilbert! Let's go check it out! Tomorrow!"

Arthur gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing several times, unable to form words.

"Yea! That's the spirit!" Gilbert beamed, "'Bout time we did something fun!"

"Mon Dieu Mathieu… What have you gone and started," Francis sighed smiling and shaking his head at Matthew who looked sheepishly away at the ground.

_A little ghost hunt could be fun._ Arthur thought, as the others in the group murmured their agreements.

Alfred looked hopefully back at him, and for a moment Arthur felt a familiar flutter of excitement. It was a flash of a feeling that reminded him of the old, carefree Alfred that loved adventure and getting into trouble. The Alfred that drove him mad in all the best ways.

"Okay, I'm in." Arthur said, rising to his feet.

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

Translations:

voleuse d'homme = man thief (French)


End file.
